


Alone With You

by Audrey, Pantherlily



Series: Johnlock Series [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance/Smut, Some drama/angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 256,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey/pseuds/Audrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantherlily/pseuds/Pantherlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John finally get married, take time to heal,  and then go to southern Italy for their honeymoon. Part four in a Johnlock series. Takes place shortly after 'Present Company Missing' ends. It would be helpful to read the first three stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After their night of love making, Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to behave the rest of the time. His motivation was getting the hell out of the hospital. They both needed to get better and let their bodies heal. There would be plenty of time on the honeymoon to have all kinds of fun. After a few days of observation from the hospital staff they were able to leave the hospital and go back to London. God, it was good to be back home. Of course, Mycroft had a car waiting for them at the airport. It was almost like having a personal taxi service but without having to pay the driver. Once home, he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"As much as I loved our little vacation I can't wait to see Amy." John looked at Sherlock with a smile, shifting with a slight grimace as his jacket rubbed at the wound on his shoulder. It had been quite awhile since he had seen his little girl and the sudden biological pull he had to her, the urge to be around her and protect her, was so strong that he could barely handle it. He was still in his military uniform, the only clothes he'd had when they left, and he suddenly cringed every time he caught sight of himself. Being a solider wasn't what he wanted right now. He climbed the stairs to the flat slowly and a huge grin split his face when a small cry echoed from their flat.

"Thank the Lord." Lestrade opened the door and took John's bags, nearly shoving the little girl into John's arms. "She hasn't slept in _hours_. Please, do something." He rushed into the living room with John's bags.

"Oh, well hello there, little Amy." John glanced back at his fiancé and chuckled slightly before collapsing on the couch, putting the bulk of Amy's weight on his left arm. She wailed loudly so John started to hum, rocking her in his arm and bouncing his leg.

"Sherlock." Mycroft looked less happy to see the couple. "Your room. _Now_. We need to talk."

Sherlock looked over to John and little Sandi and was about to walk over to them when Mycroft requested an audience. He sighed and shuffled into the bedroom, managing to close the door quietly despite feeling the need to slam it shut. He looked to his brother, seeing if he could figure out what his sibling had to say now. More of Moriarty's men around still? A disapproving lecture about something or other? Those two seemed the most likely topics of discussions, though he supposed it could be anything really. His brother was a difficult man to read sometimes, even for him.

"I can't believe I'm saying this." Mycroft studied Sherlock for a long moment, relaxing marginally when Amy's cries quieted from the living room. "You can't marry him right now, Sherlock. He is injured. _You are_ injured. Don't you both want to be healthy? Won't be much of a honeymoon, really." He was holding his ground despite wanting to pace, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Except from what the hospital staff told me you two managed to do just fine _shagging_ each other while he was nearly dead and you should have been resting!" There was a long pause for Mycroft to collect himself, taking a deep breath and relaxing even more when Amy had officially stopped crying. "I am just...don't you think you two should wait until he is _completely_ healed?" The word held more than just the physical standpoint of the Army doctor's clear issues.

Oh. That was what his older brother wanted to talk about. A disapproving lecture indeed. Sherlock smirked, obviously amused. "John wants to get married now." He shrugged as if that was good enough for him. Although, Mycroft had a point. He just hadn't argued with his fiancé about it, because he didn't want the army doctor, _former_ army doctor now he reminded himself, to think he was as getting cold feet or trying to back out of the marriage. John was having enough problems coping mentally, the other man didn't need to be worrying about other things right now.

"Of course he wants to get married now, Sherlock." Mycroft glanced at his younger brother before shaking his head. "He has been through Hell. You have seen it. You are struggling to put up with it. I don't think you realize that getting married could make it worse. The guilt? Amplified." He took a step closer to Sherlock. "You need to talk to him. I know you want to make him happy. Christ, I want nothing more than to see John's life return to normal, but this...it could end badly." He went to turn and the light in the room glinted off of a simple gold band around his left ring finger, his eyes shooting up at Sherlock as he shoved his hands in his pocket once he noticed it. "Mum's worried."

"Mummy always worries," Sherlock muttered. He didn't reply to anything else Mycroft had said. Once more, his older brother felt the need to tell him how to run his life. It always annoyed him and made him want to do the opposite of whatever was told or expected him. The ring his sibling wore made his eyebrows arch but he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he was done talking to Mycroft. He opened the bedroom door and left, walking back into the living room so he could spend time with his fiancé and daughter.

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled slightly before glancing down at the infant in his arms. Amy had quieted down almost instantly, John's dog tags wrapped loosely in a little hand as she stared up at her father. "Wedding plans?" He asked Sherlock softly, turning his head marginally but not taking his eyes off of his daughter. He had been waiting patiently to get married to Sherlock, now it was all he could think about. In two days they would be officially married.

Mycroft entered the room slowly, glancing at Lestrade before motioning his head toward the kitchen. The Detective Inspector followed with a quick glance at the couple on the couch.

Sherlock glared as Mycroft and Lestrade entered the kitchen. He had hoped the two would just leave, so he could be alone with his soon to be family. Well, he supposed they already were minus the legal documentation. Wedding plans? Yeah, right. Something like that. He sat down next to John. "Just tying a few loose ends." He gave his fiancé a small smile.

John smiled and leaned over to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips. "I am so excited," he muttered, giving Sherlock another kiss. His stomach twisted in excitement and he relaxed slightly before tensing again. "Could you, um, could you come help me change?" A small blush spread across his cheeks as he glanced up at his fiancé. The Army uniform was upsetting him now and he just wanted it off.

Excited. Yes, Sherlock supposed he was as well. Damn his older brother and his words. He returned the kisses, ignoring the doubt now nagging at him. "Well, I can either help you here or in our bedroom. Where doesn't matter to me but I figured you wouldn't want to disrobe with Mycroft and Lestrade in the next room over." He gave a smirk.

"Hush." John said with a smile, standing slowly and looking down at Amy. "Your Papa is silly, isn't he Amy?" He placed a soft kiss on her forehead as he headed into the room. Walking into the room gave him such a sense of calm that he just froze, looking around for a moment before moving toward the crib and setting Amy down. "Just want out of this damn uniform," he whispered. He stood in front of the mirror and tensed, studying himself with a small frown.

Sherlock followed after John, shutting the door behind him as he walked in. He came up behind his fiancé, set a hand on his good shoulder and rest his chin on the top of the other man's head. "John…are you sure you want to get married so soon? I am…worried about you my dear doctor." He peered into the mirror, staring at John's face with a slight frown etched upon his lips.

Of course John wanted to get married. He let his eyes lift to meet his fiancé's in the mirror, swallowing hard. What was he supposed to say? _Oh, I'm fine. Really. Just feel guilty about killing three men, nearly getting you killed, and I can't sleep. But really, I'm fine._ He dropped his gaze and stubbornly lifted his left arm to start unbuttoning the military shirt, yanking at each one several times before they came undone. At this point he couldn't even trust himself to speak.

Sherlock reached up his free hand and gently took his fiancé's wrist, to stop him from continuing to undo his shirt. "John, I am not questioning whether or not you want to marry me. I'm questioning the timing. We just went through Hell and came back again." He was quiet a moment, thinking. Compromise. "How about we still get married as planned but wait a couple weeks for the honeymoon. That way we can have a proper one." He smirked at his fiancé through the mirror.

Sherlock's touch made him tense momentarily and he wearily lifted his gaze. John managed a small smile because he really couldn't hide anything from Sherlock. The man had practically read this thoughts. "I understand," he muttered with a small chuckle. "I just...I want to be with you and go on our honeymoon." He bit his bottom lip and leaned back against his fiancé with a small sigh. "That will be fine." He tilted his head be placed a soft kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw. "Whatever you want."

Sherlock gave a faint smile. "We can stay at the flat after the wedding. Take care of little Sandi together. That way she isn't stuck with my brother and the Inspector again so soon." He moved John's hand gently down away from the buttons, before releasing his fiancé's wrist. He then began to undo the shirt for the other man, the hand on John's shoulder reaching around to help. He pulled his fiancé closer to him lightly, to give a small hug.

Having Sherlock _literally_ undress him should have been arousing but all he could do was relax. He hummed softly in agreement as his eyes slipped closed. "I think that is a good idea," he muttered. His fiancé's touch was enough to make him sleepy for the first time in days. "I don't want to see this uniform ever again," he whispered, tilting his head to nip at Sherlock's jaw. Right now he couldn't decide if he would sleep or have lazy sex with his fiancé.

Sherlock nodded and kissed the top of John's head. He continued to help his fiancé undress, first the shirt and then the trousers. He took the other man's dog tags. "Do you mind if I keep them?" He understood why John wanted to get rid of the uniform but maybe his fiancé would let him hold onto these. "I gave the other set to little Sandi." He smiled gently, tilting his head to the mobile above the crib.

Dog tags. John's stomach lurched as he glanced at the mobile across the crib and smiled. "Yeah." He stepped out of his trouserscompletely. "Keep them." He nearly wanted to rip the spare set from the crib but froze when he saw a picture of himself as well. "Think she was going to forget me, then?" He studied Sherlock with a smirk as he moved toward the dresser. Civilian clothes. He slipped into a pair of flannel trousers, pulled his tan shirt over his head carefully, and froze. His new scar made him sick to his stomach and he moved back to the mirror. "I look horrible."

Sherlock smiled and shrugged. "I just thought she should see her Dad every time she woke up." He frowned at John's last words. "No you don't." He wrapped his arms around his fiancé's waist gently, to draw him into a light hug. He placed another kiss atop the other man's head.

"I'm already losing muscle definition," John stated softly as he kept his gaze locked in his reflection. "I have been shot three times now. How could you possibly want to marry me?" A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned against Sherlock. He paused for a moment before turning swiftly in Sherlock's arms, meeting his lips and pressing him against the door with a small moan. After everything they had been through, how his body looked and even his mind betraying him, Sherlock wanted to be his husband. Now he couldn't keep his hands off the other man.

Sherlock was about to reply when John kissed him. He returned it for a moment before breaking it. "John, we shouldn't." He wanted to, God did he want to keep it going. He kept his embrace on his fiancé, his forehead leaning against the other man's. "I know the last time the deal didn't work out very well, but perhaps we should wait for our honeymoon to do anything. Neither of us are in either shape. We need to get better so we can take care of our daughter."

"Just wanted to kiss you," John whispered breathlessly. He pulled away from his fiancé with a sheepish smile and glanced toward the crib. "Wouldn't want to do anything with her in here." He moved to sit on the bed with a sigh, studying his bandaged shoulder. "We are shagging on our wedding night, Sherlock. Period." A steady smirk tugged at his lips and he stood, clearly not sure what to do with himself. Out of a war zone. Constantly safe. "What now?"

"Yes, well I have difficulty stopping after kissing." Sherlock smirked and then shrugged. "I still need to teach you to dance, but that can wait for a bit. It isn't something we need to do right this instant though. You need to be taking it easy." He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "When little Sandi wakes up, I can take you guys to see the office. We never got to do that last time you were home."

See the office. Learn to dance. John slowly lifted his gaze and bit his bottom lip. "Yeah. Should be good. I am going to take a nap, okay? I'm a bit tired." He smiled and shifted to lay down. "I'm tired. Go talk to your brother or...something." He closed his eyes because at this point he wanted his fiancé to be doing something, to not be held down.

Sherlock didn't feel like talking to Mycroft. With any luck, his older brother and the Detective Inspector had already left the flat. He thought about moving over to the bed, to snuggle with John while the other man slept but his fiancé didn't appear to want him around at the moment. "Yes, you should get some sleep. You haven't been getting enough lately." He studied John for a moment, a thoughtful frown on his face. He decided to leave the room, and laid down on the couch out in the living room. His back was to the room, it had seemed like a lifetime ago since he had last pouted in this spot.

John tossed and turned for at least half an hour before soft cries from the crib made him get up. "Shhh, Amy." He picked her up, his forearm knocking against the dog tags and making him cringe. "It is fine, Baby Girl." He opened the door to the bedroom slowly and moved instantly to the changing table. Amy sat still, her eyes lazily wandering from John to the ceiling, and once she had a new diaper on she seemed more content. "There. Just like I told you." He lifted his daughter to his chest and bounced her slightly, turning to look at his fiancé with a sigh. "You alright over there?'

Sherlock turned over when John spoke. "Yeah, just thinking." He gave a shrug as he sat up. His chest was still tender from having a cracked rib, and couldn't help the cringe that crossed his features. Repeatedly, he had turned down the pain medication and it was times like these that he regretted it. It would be better in the long run. "Apparently Baby Girl takes after us both, doesn't want to sleep." He smirked slightly at his fiancé.

"Apparently," John replied softly, moving to the couch and sitting next to his fiancé. "I get caught up just staring at her sometimes," he muttered as he moved a lock of light blonde hair from her forehead. "She is a little part of me. That's just...mind blowing. I can't believe it." Amy shifted slightly and gave a small squeak as John spoke, grasping weakly at his finger. "It scares me."

"It shouldn't be, because it is amazing how much she is like you already." Sherlock smiled and looked down to little Sandi. "Isn't that right Baby Girl? Tell Dad he is silly." He looked back up to John and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you are back home with me…with us," he admitted softly. Maybe life could finally be normal, something he had run away from all his life and now he didn't want anything else. The excitement just didn't have the allure anymore, not when he had a family to take care of now.

Already like him? John glanced at Amy and pursed his lips in thought, his head giving way slightly to Sherlock's kiss. Sherlock's quiet statement made him turn his head slightly. Home. With his family. "Me too," he whispered as he leaned slightly against Sherlock and rested his head on his fiancé's shoulder. "Amy." He clicked his tongue against the top if his mouth and smiled when her eyes shot toward him. "Hi there." He slowly lifted his right hand and gently tickled her stomach. "We are getting married in two days."

Sherlock smiled and leaned his head onto John's. The moment only amplified the feeling and need to protect these two. Wow. A family. It was hard for him to believe that he had one. _Him_. Sherlock Holmes, a family man. A year and a half ago that would have been the most absurd idea to him but now it was the only thing that seemed to make sense. "You think she likes music? I was thinking about playing our song for you."

"She might. Anything as beautiful as the things you play will be enjoyable." John took a deep breath and tilted his head up to gently kiss Sherlock's jaw. "Play it. I want to hear." He took a deep breath and placed another kiss on his fiancé's neck. "But be warned, your music turns me on," he half-joked as glanced down at Amy.

Sherlock got up off the couch and turned to look at John with smirk and a cocked eyebrow. "Does it now? Hmmm, I will have to write music for you more often." The smirk only got bigger as he turned away, went to their bedroom, and retrieved the CD with the recorded violin music. He came back out and put it disc into player. There was a brief moment of silence before the sounds of the violin came through the speakers. It was a simple tune, having a moderate tempo. Perfect for a waltz or foxtrot.

The sound of the music filled the room and John let his head fall back with a pleased smile. It was beautiful and very _Sherlock_. He lazily lifted his head and nodded. "It is beautiful. I love it." He shifted slightly and froze when he realized Amy had finally fallen asleep. Turned out she did enjoy Sherlock's music. His grin grew and he relaxed back in the couch. "Any type of dance you wanted to do, specifically?"

"I figured since you didn't know how to dance we would keep it simple. A waltz, the box step. Very easy to learn. If you can count to three and slide your feet to make a box, you will do fine. All you have to do is follow my lead." Sherlock smirked a bit. "Here…I will show you…" He stopped the second track that had started playing and went back to the first track on the CD. When it started, he counted the beat in time mentally. He slid his left foot to connect with his right and then slid the right down, the left trailed after the right and then moved left, this time the right foot traveling after, the left moving up and the right coming after and then the dance repeated. Just to show off, he did a few spins and twists despite not having a partner. When the song ended, Sherlock turned to face John that smirk still plastered to his face smugly.

John watched Sherlock, captivated with the fluid movements of his body. It was beautiful to watch and he shifted slightly on the couch. He wasn't going to be able to make it through their dance without getting a hard on, especially since he was going to be pressed _against_ Sherlock. He slowly lifted his eyes, raking them up his fiancé's body before meeting his gaze. "I...don't think I can do that. Not that well, at least. That was..." He shifted again in the couch. He shouldn't be aroused while holding his daughter but _shit_. "I love you."

"You will do fine. To be honest, the hardest part will be staying in the same position. Where the hands go and keeping them in place." Sherlock let the smirk twitch back into place. He let the CD continue to play, and moved back over to the couch. He sat down next to John. "I love you too." He leaned over and gave his fiancé a kiss on the cheek.

"I am going to assume that since you constantly say you are the dominant one that I will have my hand on your shoulder?" John smirked and turned his head to gently meet Sherlock's lips. "I mean, your Mum put me in a white tuxedo." The smirk that tugged at his lips was amused and he glanced down at Amy. "Think Harry would hold her through the ceremony? I mean...I think Mike is going to be my best man." He leaned back against the couch and listened to the music with a soft smile. "If I put her back in the crib could I sit here and make out with you like some teenagers? That possible?"

Sherlock smirked yet again and then nodded. "Yeah, sure. That would be good." He arched his brows. "Well, I never made out while a teenager so maybe I can make up for lost time with you." The smirk returned to his lips. Married. In a couple days he would be a married man. It was crazy and amazing to him all at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2

John stood slowly, cradling Amy protectively as he walked back to their bedroom. He set the infant down in the crib gently and left the room leaving the door cracked open, moving to turn on the monitor in the living room so they would hear Amy if she started to cry. "Never made out like a teenager?" John looked at Sherlock proudly. He straddled Sherlock's hips and gently met his lips, pulling away teasingly. "It is great fun." Another kiss, his tongue running along Sherlock's bottom lip. He lifted his left hand to rest on the back of his fiancé's neck, deepening the kiss as he gently pushed at Sherlock's torso to lean back and relax against the couch.

Adding the twists and spins while dancing hadn't been a very good idea. Sherlock ignored the pain in his chest and smiled when John came back. His arms wrapped around his fiancé's waist, when the other man straddled him. He let John control the kiss, following and matching the movements of his partner. This was a good distraction from the aches in his upper body.

Even when John was in control he was shocked by how Sherlock managed to turn him straight to mush. He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip and shoved at Sherlock's tongue, pressing his mouth harder against the other man's. After a few moments he pulled away slowly, opening his eyes slowly and taking a deep breath. "And at some point," his hand ran down Sherlock's chest slowly, "we start palming each other through our pants and moaning." He gave Sherlock a slow kiss and stopped his hand on his fiancé's lower stomach, right above the waistband of his pants.

A good distraction indeed. Sherlock was rather enjoying this. "What if I don't want to stop after that?" He smirked, as his fingers trailed down John's back and then ran along inside the waistband of the other man's trousers teasingly. He squirmed his lower torso into his fiancé's for added effect. He couldn't help himself. John was practically irresistible to him, especially when his fiancé was straddling him like this.

John swallowed hard and lifted slightly with Sherlock's movement. "We probably will," he whispered against Sherlock's lips, running his tongue along them before pulling back and pressing back into Sherlock's hand. "You still have to teach me how to dance, remember?" He pressed his hand against his partner's stomach and gently rocked his hips forward. "And I am supposed to be getting better for our honeymoon." He kissed Sherlock slowly now, running his tongue along Sherlock's mouth. Just the sound of them kissing was enough to make him moan softly.

Sherlock continued to allow John to control the kiss, not minding how slow it was. In fact, recently he had discovered he quite liked the slower pace. His fiancé had a point. The other man needed to get better. "Maybe I'll just reposition so you are laying down on the couch and I will suck you off. That way, you don't have to do anything." He continued to writhe into the body above him with a whimper of desire.

"I thought we were just making out," John muttered with a small moan. If Sherlock kept up like that below him they were going to start doing something they wouldn't be able to stop. Even if the proposition did sound nice he wasn't sure he wanted to only because he was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to return the favor. "Are you sure? Don't want to have you do all the work." He sucked at Sherlock's bottom lip and grinned.

"Snogging is good, we can do that for awhile. I'm just not sure I can stop there, not that I want to." Sherlock matched his fiancé's grin. "See what you have done to me, my dear doctor? Turned me into some kind of crazed sex addict. Of course, I don't mind. It just means you will owe me on the honeymoon. And by that I mean, I get to do whatever I want with you." The grin twisted into a smirk and he resumed the kissing, hands sliding a little further down John's trousers.

John rocked back into Sherlock's hands and closed his eyes. "Christ, Sherlock." He quickly moved his hand to the back of his fiancé's neck and tugged, shifting to the side to pull Sherlock with him. He met the other man's mouth passionately, huffing out a breath and lifting his hips. That was good. Now they couldn't stop.

Sherlock followed John eagerly. After awhile of exploring his fiancé's mouth, he broke the kiss and began to suck on the other man's neck, then jaw and then moved onto his favorite place to nibble and suck, the ear. He let his fingers trail along his partner's thighs in light, teasing strokes. His lower torso leaned into John's excitedly.

John was panting now, glancing down to watch Sherlock's hand with a small moan. Being around Sherlock, the fact that they were getting married in two days, made the entire situation even better. He pressed up into Sherlock's hips as his left hand combed through Sherlock's hair. His legs spread apart farther for his fiancé, desperate for any sort of contact he could get. At this point, despite the scars that marred his torso, he was glad he had forgone putting a shirt on when he had changed into the loose pair of pajama bottoms. He tilted his head slightly, gasping slightly when his ear tugged in Sherlock's mouth, to nip at Sherlock's ear as his hips lifted again.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock whispered into John's ear. "Just relax. Take it all in." He moved his lips to his fiancé's and gave it a quick kiss, biting the bottom lip before pulling away. He began kissing down his partner's body, hands coming out of the trousers so he could pull them off easier. The kisses started at the 'V' in John's neck and then slowly worked his way down.

John only managed to nod, closing his eyes and arching his neck to give Sherlock better access. He let his eyes close as he followed Sherlock's mouth by touch. How did he get so lucky? Here he was with his fiancé, on top of him and just as eager as him. "Jesus," he whispered, his fingers tightening in Sherlock's hair involuntarily. It was perfect because he had needed to relax except this wasn't really what he'd had in mind. Kissing was his main intention and now here he was, on his back and spread out for Sherlock. He felt Sherlock's hand leave his trousers and whimpered at the loss, lifting his right hand and ignoring the pain as he scratched at Sherlock's side through his shirt.

Sherlock growled from the scratching, even if there was shirt in the way to prevent the full effect of feeling the nails digging into his skin. Usually, he would take the time tease John but his fiancé was still trying to recuperate. He pulled down the parjam bottoms, one hand caressing the base of the cock, pumping it up and down with a slow but steady rhythm. The other hand found the couch and he gripped it to help keep him steady. Once his lips reached John's penis he took it in his mouth and sucked on in time with the motion of his hand.

John let out a small shout, lifting his hips slightly but relaxing when he realized that fucking Sherlock's mouth probably wouldn't be the most productive thing right now. He felt his stomach tense and he pressed slightly on the back of Sherlock's head. "God, yes." He scratched at his partner's shoulder without a second thought, hissing at the pain that shot through his shoulder. Sherlock's mouth should be illegal. The man was obscenely good at giving blow jobs. "Perfect. Your mouth is perfect." His hips lifted again.

Sherlock growled again, his body squirming this time as the scratching continued. Scratching had always been one of his turn-on's, no matter where on the body. He smirked at John's words. If his mouth hadn't been full, he would have made a cocky come back. Literally and figuratively. He smirked again, this time at his own witty thoughts. He continued to bob the cock in and out, his hand still stroking the part his mouth couldn't quite reach.

While John was typically a proud man, one with stamina in situations such as these, he was weak and knew it. "Sherl-" His back arched off the couch and he groaned as he came, pulling Sherlock's hair without thinking about it. Illegal. Definitely illegal. "Oh, God." He went limp against the couch as his hand slid from his fiancé's hair, slapping against his own thigh. "Y-You now," he whispered, looking at Sherlock for a moment but making no indication that he was going to move. "Get your cock up here." He managed a lazy smirk. He would at least try.

Sherlock swallowed easily and then removed his mouth from penis. He shook his head. "I am fine. Don't want you to strain yourself any more than you already have." It was a very tempting offer though; the erection that bulged in his pants was evidence of that. So as not put too much pressure on John, he squeezed his lanky form onto the edge of the couch and set his head on his fiancé's good shoulder. He managed not to squirm, despite his desire.

John looked at Sherlock with a small frown. He wanted to help his fiancé, he felt his erection against his side. "I love you. And owe you." He placed a soft kiss on the top of Sherlock's head, reaching down with his bad arm to pull his pajama bottoms up. "Should be a good honeymoon for you." He shifted slightly and hissed a bit at the pain. "I'm excited to see you in a tux."

"Here, let me get it. Stop using your bad arm," Sherlock admonished lightly. He sat up slightly and helped pull John's trousers back up. "Wearing a tuxedo doesn't bother me, but having to wear a damn tie does," he grumbled. The thought still annoyed him. He had only agreed just to keep his mother happy. In fact, he had agreed to a lot of things in regards to the wedding just to make her happy. He snuggled back into John. "Tomorrow I will show you how to dance. We should probably take it easy the rest of the day."

John snorted slightly and glanced at Sherlock with a raised brow. "You are going to look fine. Just imagine me ripping it off that night," he said softly as his fingers carded through his fiancé's hair. Learning to dance sounded daunting. "I'm going to step on your feet tomorrow." He closed his eyes and sighed. So much was going into this wedding.

Sherlock's eyes closed from the feeling of the fingers in his hair. "I am imagining a whole lot more than that." He smirked and tilted his head up to kiss John on the cheek. "You will do fine and if you don't, we will just keep doing it over and over again until you get it right." He smirked again, a hand coming to rest lightly on his fiancé's stomach.

"I know you are imagining more." John laughed softly and tugged Sherlock closer with his good arm. It sounded like tomorrow was going to be a long day. "I' am going to make us look like idiots, Sherlock. I literally have two left feet. I can't...I can't dance at all. This is making me nervous." He looked at the hand rested on his stomach and smiled. "Sherlock Holmes. My husband."

"You worry too much," Sherlock mumbled sleepily. He hadn't slept since shagging John in the hospital. He had been too worried and busy trying to take care of his fiance. This was comfortable. Everything was calm and relaxed. Safe. They were finally safe. "Tired," he muttered, his head burying deeper into his fiancé's shoulder. "Love you," he whispered before finally falling asleep.

John let Sherlock fall asleep and watched him for a long moment, studying his face with a weak smile. It was then that he realized how tired he was as well. He grabbed the baby monitor, turned it up, and set it on his stomach. "Love you." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's head and fell asleep.

Sherlock slept the rest of the day away and didn't awaken until morning the next day, due to the lack of sleep and the abuse his body had taken recently. Maybe John had slept too. He shifted carefully and lightly, just in case. If his fiancé had finally managed to slumber, he didn't want to disrupt the other man. Tea sounded like a fantastic idea. He hadn't had tea since sometime before he left London to go see John at the hospital after the first kidnapping.

Movement. John groaned and scrunched his face, turning slightly. "Sherlock?" He asked sleepily, his arm tightening around his fiancé. He had fallen asleep and rather enjoyed the slumber but now he was awake, slightly confused. The baby monitor slipped slightly from his stomach and against Sherlock. "Asleep. Go to sleep."

Sherlock cringed, he had woken John up. "Ssshhh, go back to sleep my dear doctor." He took the baby monitor and got up off the couch, ignoring the minor chest pain. "Just going to check on little Sandi." That hadn't been his initial plan, but he wanted to his fiancé to sleep as long as possible. He walked into their bedroom, turning off the receiver. All three most have needed the sleep because Amy was still sleeping as well.

John watched Sherlock for a long moment and shifted to find a new position. "'Kay, gonna sleep." He closed his eyes slowly and fell asleep almost instantly.

Amy shifted slightly when the door to the bedroom opened. She let out a small cry and kicked her feet slightly, stretching her little body and letting out a second one.

"Hey Baby Girl, I'm right here." Sherlock picked up little Sandi gently. "I heard you missed me while I was gone." He smiled, shifting her so she would rest comfortably in his arms. "That sounded like a hungry cry to me. Am I right?" He checked the diaper as he made his way to the living room. "We need to be quiet, Dad is sleeping," he whispered to Amy.

Amy quieted slightly in Sherlock's arms, looking at him blankly before letting out a small whimper. Her face scrunched slightly and she unclenched and clenched the fingers on her left hand. She wiggled slightly and pushed her feet against Sherlock's forearm with a whimper.

"Hey, easy there Baby Girl," Sherlock said as he entered the kitchen. He got a bottle ready and warmed up the milk. He offered little Sandi the bottle, once it was ready. He took a seat at the kitchen table. A fuzzy paw batted at his leg. Hamish? Where had that feline been this whole time? Probably in hiding, since the cat didn't get along with Mycroft or Lestrade. Hamish padded over to the refrigerator and did circles by it. "The baby first. Then you," he told the cat.

Amy latched on to the bottle and started eating loudly, lifting a shaky hand to rest on the bottle.

"Really hungry?" John walked slowly into the kitchen and fell into a chair unceremoniously. Coffee. Anything warm. "Tea?" He asked softly, rubbing at his eye with the back if his hand and yawning. He smirked at a particularly loud swallow from Amy.

"You should be sleeping," Sherlock told John with a slight shake of his head. He glanced down at little Sandi. "We woke up Dad. At least he isn't grumpy like Uncle Mycroft is." He glanced up his fiance with a smirk. "Yes, that would be wonderful. Maybe feed Hamish?" He tilted his head at the cat on the floor that was staring at him.

Feed Hamish? John raised a brow curiously as he stood, ignoring Sherlock's comment about sleeping and grabbed the kettle. "Been able to determine what each cry means, then?" He placed it on the stove and turned it on, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter. "Alright, Hamish." He moved to the fridge and opened it, grabbing the slice ham and crouching slowly. "Here you go." He held out a slice.

Amy looked up at Sherlock curiously and continued to loudly suck at the bottle, pressing her feet into his forearm and stretching out slightly.

"I think so," Sherlock replied with smile and a nod. He watched John try and feed Hamish. The cat stared at the hand holding food for a long moment before snatching it and running away to eat it. Once the feline was done eating, it trotted back to the fridge and meowed loudly. Its yellow eyes stared up at John expectantly. "See? I think he is starting to warm up to you."

"Guess so." John smirked and grabbed another piece of ham, holding it out and glancing at his fiancé. "Thanks," he muttered with a blush, "For earlier, I mean. It was nice." He stood slowly and put the ham back in the fridge, moving toward the whistling kettle. "I'll get your tea." He poured it, putting sugar in one cup and cream in the other. "Sugar only, you picky git." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple and gently tickled Amy's stomach as she ate. "Any ideas for dinner?" He asked as he fell into his chair and took a sip of his tea.

Hamish grabbed the food and gobbled it as he ran over to Sherlock's feet. The cat plopped down on them, licking its whiskers clean.

Sherlock smirked. "You needed to relax a little. Even got you to sleep." He thanked John for the cup of tea and then shrugged. "Maybe take away from the Chinese place?" He wasn't terribly hungry but he would eat something to appease his fiance. "Did you still want to see the office or do that after things have calmed down?"

John looked at Sherlock over his mug with a placid smirk before shrugging his good shoulder. "I wouldn't mind some Chinese," he muttered absently as he kept his eyes locked on his daughter. "We can go after you finish feeding her," he offered as he set his mug down and folded his arms on the table. "Go and see your new work space and then come back and have dinner." He reached across the table and smiled, running his fingers lightly down Sherlock's forearm. "Get to sleep in our bed tonight, Sherlock. With you."

Sherlock nodded. It all sounded good to him. The office. Work. God, he couldn't wait to get back to solving cases again. He missed doing it. Would John still want to run around all of London with him, now that they had daughter? Would John get upset if he worked late on cases and maybe not come home for days? Would he be able to balance his old life style with his new one? He frowned at his thoughts, the excitement gone just as quickly as it had come. He couldn't give up what he did, loved. However, he couldn't imagine giving up what he had now either. He stared down a little Sandi thoughtfully, as he tried to figure out how to balance work and family. He blinked when his fiancé's touch finally registered and he lifted his gaze to look at John. He gave a small smile. "Yes, that will be good."

"Where did you just run off to?" John asked thoughtfully, retracting his hand to grab the warm mug in front of him. It was obvious when Sherlock would get caught up in his thoughts. The other man couldn't hide much from him anymore. "Would it help to say I have a surprise for you?" He grinned and reached behind him at grab a folder off of the kitchen counter. "Talked to Lestrade a bit over text. We decided it was time to get you back to doing things you loved." He slid the folder across the table and glanced up at his fiancé. "Two murders. Love you." He stood and emptied his mug, nodding toward Amy. "I'll change her to get ready to go."

Sherlock shrugged. "I was just thinking about some things." He raised a brow. "When I am going to have time? We are getting married tomorrow." He passed off little Sandi to John and took to the folder anyway. He sighed and stared at the contents briefly. He picked up the cup of tea, sipping it as he continued to leaf through the information.

It took John some time but he eventually reentered the kitchen. Amy was in a new outfit and laying calmly in his arms. He had managed to put on a pair of jeans that were lose on his hips and a plaid shirt that was snug around his chest and shoulders. "I think I need to go buy new clothes," he muttered as he walked past Sherlock. "You can look over that tonight while we are in bed. I will probably be reading something. That's what married couples do." He bent and placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple. "C'mon, let's go."

"No need. I already figured it out." Sherlock smirked, and threw the folder on the table. He shrugged and finished drinking the cup of tea. He sent a text to Lestrade and got up out of the chair. "I'm ready when you are." He grabbed his coat, scarf and then the baby bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and opened the door for his fiancé.


	3. Chapter 3

"Of course you did." John followed after him with a soft smile. "Papa is a genius, Amy," he whispered against her head. "And maybe you will be as him." He let one hand fall for a moment to gently squeeze Sherlock's ass. A proud smirk spread across his lips. "I am excited to see it. All your experiments and such."

"I can teach her to deduce when she gets older. It really isn't that hard." Sherlock returned to the smirk. "Careful there my dear doctor, I might have to retaliate." He followed his fiancé down the stairs and out into the cool England night air. "It's this way, just a few blocks down." He took the lead now, navigating the sidewalks with ease.

"We _are_ sleeping in the same bed tonight," John stated as he pulled Amy tighter against him. He followed Sherlock the best his could, wishing the taller man didn't have such long legs. "Think any of your experiments went bad because we got ourselves kidnapped?" He stopped for a moment as Amy squirmed a bit, but quickly started walking when she had resituated herself.

Sherlock smirked even though John couldn't see it. He stopped in front of a building that looked freshly renovated and painted. He took out a set of keys and unlocked the front door. He held the door open for his fiance and the followed the other man inside. "This is the area for clients to come in." They were in a foyer with a large semi circle desk for a receptionist in the center. There were some doors to what were probably offices and a lift behind the reception area.

Clients? John raised a brow at his fiancé and smirked. "You are running the business out of here now?" He took a deep breath and glanced at Amy. Now he wasn't sure he liked this new building. No more people in the flat with odd cases. It wouldn't feel the same. "Look, Amy, it's Papa's new warehouse." He placed a soft kiss on her head and smiled warmly at Sherlock. "D'you like it?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Better than having strangers coming in and out of the flat, with little Sandi there." He pointed to the corner office furthest from the front door and nearest the elevator. "My office is over there. You can have one too...if you want..." He walked over to the lift. "Nothing on the second floor yet. But the third floor, that will be my sanctuary." He hit the button and the doors slid open.

John smiled. His own office. "Of course I want my own office. We do this together. I have got the job at the surgery with Molly but I am helping you." He stepped slowly into the lift and raised a brow mischievously. "We should shag in here sometime. Imagine how nice that will be." He looked down at Amy as she let out a small noise. "What?" He smiled at her and gently poked her stomach.

Sherlock smirked as he stepped into the lift. "Before, after, or during hours?" The smirk got bigger. To gain access to the third floor, a key was needed. He put the key in the slot, turned it, and then hit the button. The doors slid open to reveal a large room. It was filled with papers, crates, boxes, and lab equipment strewn at random. There was a large three panel fridge and a giant white ice box next to it. "I recommend not opening anything...unless you want to expose little Sandi to the smell of rotting things at an early age." This was a place he could think. Get away and do experiments. To most people it probably looked like a chaotic mess but it was a place of perfection for the consulting detective.

"I would think after hours but knowing your penchant for being daring..." John stepped out of the elevator and glanced at Amy. "Are you sure it is safe for her to be up here?" He turned his gaze to Sherlock and took a hesitant step forward. It looked like their flat before he cleaned it. Unmanageable but prefect for Sherlock's mind. "It's very you."

Sherlock smirked and stepped out of the lift after John. He glanced around and shrugged. "Should be. As long as she doesn't start chewing or drinking anything. We don't have to linger...just wanted to show it off a bit..." He gave a slight nod. "Yeah, I can think clearer in here." He moved back to the lift. "What do you think of as Mrs. Hudson as a receptionist...though who will watch little Sandi while we work? Lestrade and Mycroft can't keep doing it...maybe my Mum...or your sister?" He glanced down to his fiance with questioning, raised eyebrows.

Harry. She was sober, from the sound of it, and she should be part of Amy's life. "We could...have Harry do it, I guess." He looked down at his daughter and smiled weakly. "I don't see why not. Aunt Harry would love to spoil you,." He bent his neck and pressed his mouth against Amy's stomach and blew. A shocked expression came over her face. John followed Sherlock obediently and glanced at him. "Obviously your Mum could help, though. She will just get spoiled from everybody." He dropped his hand again, squeezing Sherlock's ass with a grin.

Sherlock watched John curiously as he blew on little Sandi's stomach. Must be one of things most people did that he didn't know about or understand. He pressed the button with a smirk. "If you didn't have our daughter in your hands, I would shag you right now in this lift." He got in once the doors opened and returned it to the first floor. He removed the key next to third floor, after turning it to the off position.

"I can't help it that you have a nice ass, Sherlock. It's just there." John smirked and looked up at his fiancé. What he wouldn't give to be that close to Sherlock right now. He had been craving that closeness with him since they had made love in the hospital in Egypt. "We are getting married tomorrow, Sherlock. Are we going to do the typical we can't see each other before the wedding thing? Spend the night at separate places? You can stay with your Mum."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Is that something people usually do? We can, if you want." He gave a slight shrug. So many ridiculous traditional things went into weddings. He followed John out of the building and locked up. "If we did, would you want me to take care of little Sandi, so you could get some rest?"

"I think it would be...neat." John looked at Sherlock with a lopsided smile. "Make the actual wedding night just a little more special since we broke our no-sex pact." He glanced at Amy as she yawned. Could he handle being separated from her again? He wasn't sleeping as it was, taking care of her might be a welcome distraction. "I don't know," he replied slowly. He started walking toward the flat with his brows furrowed, clearly deep in thought about it.

 _Neat_? Sherlock smirked at the particular choice of word. "If that is something you want to do, I will go to my Mum's after dinner." He matched John's pace easily, and he glanced over at his fiancé with a slight frown. He decided to let the other man think in silence on the way back to the flat. He opened the door for John and then followed him up the stairs.

John shook his head, instantly changing his mind. He had decided almost instantly that day that he wanted to sleep in _their_ bed. With Sherlock. "How about...we just snuggle tonight? And tomorrow morning we part ways. Y'know, stay in different rooms at your Mum's while we dress. Take different cars to where ever she is having the wedding." He stepped into the flat slowly and looked down at Amy, smiling softly when he realized she had fallen asleep. "Are we..." He blushed and dropped his head."...still staying at your Mum's for the wedding night?"

"Guess I will have to teach you how to dance tonight, since I won't have the chance tomorrow." Sherlock sank into his chair and Hamish jumped into his lap. He petted the cat absently. He looked over to John with a smirk. "I don't know. If you don't want to, I am sure she would understand. She would probably rather watch little Sandi and spoil her anyway."

Dancing. The wedding night. It was all so much to think about. He smirked at Sherlock and moved into their room, laying Amy down as she continued to sleep. "Well, we could do the dancing now." He walked slowly past Sherlock, running his right hand lightly across the back of his fiancé's neck. "And I wouldn't mind staying there. The beds are probably more comfortable. It is a big house." A sure smile tugged at his lips.

Sherlock relaxed into John's touch, his eyes closing in contentment. His free hand reached up and rested lightly on his fiancé's. "You just want my Mum to hear us shagging." He smirked and tilted his head up so he could see John's face. "Did you want to eat first or dance? Or dance and then eat? Either is fine with me."

"A bit, yeah." John bit his bottom lip as he smiled. "Let her know how happy you are." He bent his head slightly and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Let's dance first. Need to get that bit over with." The idea of dancing was daunting, really, but doing so with his fiancé didn't make it as bad. Especially since they were getting married tomorrow. That would make it better.

Sherlock got up out of the chair after placing Hamish on the floor. The cat growled and disappeared to another part of the flat. He ignored the feline and walked over to John. "Okay. Your left hand goes on my shoulder, and mine goes on your back. Our right hands are clasped together at chest or shoulder level, which ever would be easier on you with your injury. The tempo is three/four. So. One, two, three and then you move. Just do what I do. We will do it without music for a bit and I will count out loud. Ready?"

John followed Sherlock's instructions obediently, instantly deciding that their right hands would be at a lower level. He slid his left hand on to Sherlock's shoulder, letting it drift a little higher so his thumb could rub at his fiancé's neck. "One, two, three," he repeated softly. After a long moment he lifted his eyes slowly to Sherlock's and hesitantly nodded his head. It was stupid, really, because he had been to war more times than he cared to admit but dancing made him more nervous than anything he had ever experienced. "O-Okay, ready," he whispered as he started moving his feet without much of a beat.

"Relax my dear doctor. Focus. Don't concentrate on your feet. Just move with me. Don't think about anything but the tempo. One. Two. Three." Sherlock started off counting a little slower than the actual music would be but he wanted to ease John into it as best as he could. He moved carefully, attempting to help his fiancé glide with him.

One. Two. Three. John winced. That was a foot. Not his foot. "Sorry," he muttered, cringing as he looked down at their feet intently. Sherlock made it look so effortless and here he was mucking it up like a git. He took a deep breath and slowed his feet, and his thoughts, wincing again when he felt Sherlock's foot beneath his own again. "Jesus," he growled. His eyebrows knitted together in determination and he finally managed to get a slow count right. "That was...right, yeah? Good?"

Sherlock smirked despite the fact that their feet would get tangled now and then. He had thought about having John just stand on his feet to get a feel for the movements but his fiance seemed to be getting better already. "Yes. Just like that every time. Now. Again. One. Two. Three." He recited the numbers a little faster this time, closer to the tempo of the music.

Faster. No. _No_. John had just managed to get one slow count down! This just wasn't fair. He moved his feet faster and winced every time his feet tangled with Sherlock's. He was going to make them look like a right mess tomorrow. On top of just dancing he would be nervous, and dressed nice, and probably more than ready to rip Sherlock's tuxedo off. "This isn't going to work," he growled as he stubbornly stopped moving his feet.

"John you are doing fine. Stop thinking about it so much. Don't think about your feet and what you are doing…or in your case _should_ be doing." Sherlock smirked down at his fiancé. "Come now my dear doctor. It is easy. Stand on my feet, if you feel like that will help you get the movements down a bit better."

"Stand on your feet?" John looked at Sherlock with a lighthearted smirk. "D'you know how much I weigh now? I will probably break your feet or something." He pulled away from his fiancé anyway, kicking his shoes off. Sherlock still had his shoes on so it wouldn't be too bad. "Alright, here we go." He took Sherlock's right hand, placed his right on Sherlock's shoulder, and stepped gingerly on the tops of Sherlock's feet. It took a moment for him to balance and he was pressed tightly against Sherlock's chest but now he was just desperate to learn this bloody dance before the wedding. "I look like a child," he whispered as he turned his head to place a gentle kiss on Sherlock's jaw.

Sherlock smirked a bit, it was a bit awkward but he held onto John anyway. "It is fine. One. Two. Three. Step to the side. One. Two. Three. Step back. One. Two. Three. Step to the side. One. Two. Three. Step forward. Then repeat. See? Just as easy as that. Now. Let's try again. Off my feet. And. One. Two. Three."

John kept his head bowed and followed their feet with an intense gaze. Not too bad. He slowly stepped off of Sherlock's feet and bit his bottom lip. "One. Two. Three," he whispered to himself as his feet moved a bit slower than his fiancé's but in the right direction and rhythm. "Look!" He nearly shouted, clearly excited.

Sherlock smirked down at John. "Yes, better. Much better, actually. Now again. Same speed before, until you move with a little more confidence. Then we will do the tempo of the musical piece and after that we will do it to the music. You don't get to eat until you get this." He smirked again, before counting over and over again, as they moved around the living room.

If John got it right then he should get some sort of reward. He stood on his toes and gently sucked at Sherlock's lower lip before pulling away. Focus. He took his eyes off of their feet and met Sherlock's gaze, a lopsided smile on his face. His feet moved with shaky confidence at their slow pace but didn't miss a step. Maybe this dancing thing wouldn't be so bad.

Sherlock smiled. "You are doing great my dear doctor. I told you, you could do it. Now, let's increase the tempo." He made a gradual transition to the change of pace, hoping it would be smoother for John. He continued to count out loud, running his thumb soothingly over his fiancé's hand.

Faster now. John's confidence dropped slightly and he dropped his eyes to their feet again, swallowing hard. He counted in time with Sherlock, his voice nothing more than a whisper. To his delight his feet moved with Sherlock's. He squeezed his fiancé's shoulder with slight excitement. He was dancing. Another reward. John tilted his head and gently nipped at the pulse point in Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock nearly lost his step the moment John nipped at his neck. He slowed down and then stopped the dancing, a mischievous smirk crossing his lips. He pressed his head against his fiancé's and gently met the other's mans lips. He held John close to him in light hug. His fingers trailed along his fiancé's back, as he deepened the kiss.

John returned the kiss without a second thought, pressing back into Sherlock's touch with a soft moan. That was certainly more of a reward than he thought he would get. He squeezed Sherlock's hand as he tilted his head, his tongue pressing against his fiancé's. The hand on Sherlock's shoulder skid up into his hair. "Dancing?" He asked breathlessly against his partner's lips.

Sherlock was most certainly not interested in dancing anymore. "Yes. Of course. We can pick up where we left off later?" He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. He released John and walked over to the CD player. "All right , now we dance to the music. You ready my dear doctor?" He turned back to his fiancé after hitting play, and resumed the dancing position with his partner. He counted once more, moving in time with the music with ease.

"Of course," John stated with a confident smirk. He took a deep breath and started to dance to the quick tempo, tripping over his feet and falling against Sherlock's chest with a grunt. That had pulled at his shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered as he glanced up at his fiancé. Focus. One. Two. Three. Just faster. He kept his eyes locked on their feet and slowly fell into the rhythm.

Sherlock supported John easily. "You are fine. Just like we practiced before. One. Two. Three." He counted out loud, hoping that would help his fiancé. "I put the song on repeat, so we will just keep dancing until you get it. The sooner you get it, the sooner we can continue what we started just a moment ago." He glanced down to John with a smirk.

John let his feet take over and mouthed the words with Sherlock, smiling weakly when his feet matched the movements of his fiancé. "Y'know we are not having sex the night before our wedding, right?" He whispered with a small grin. "That would ruin everything. I will make out with you on the couch and palm you through your pants." He looked up at Sherlock and grinned as they started dancing together. He was in perfect rhythm now and clearly proud of himself. "But no sex."

No sex? Naturally. Sherlock was fairly certain he could change John's mind, if he tried hard enough. For a moment, he was lost in his devious thoughts that he didn't notice they were dancing perfectly. When he did, he smiled down to his fiancé. "I do believe you have got it my dear doctor. I knew you would. You are a quick study." He gave a quick kiss to the top of his partner's head, and then stopped dancing so he could turn the music off. He returned to John, grasping the left hand and gently pulling him to the couch.


	4. Chapter 4

John followed Sherlock slowly, raising a brow. "Last time we tried just kissing you insisted on sucking me off," he whispered slowly, moving to press himself against his fiancé's chest. "And I don't think you are leading me over here for a quick nap." He tilted his head and placed a kiss on Sherlock's pressure point, nipping at it with a small sigh. "You can't fool me, Sherlock, you sex-crazed madman."

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "I have no idea what you are talking about my dear doctor." He sat down on the couch, pulling John with him still so his fiancé could straddle his lap. "You like it, and you know it. It's because I am so sexy and irresistible, right? Can't keep your hands off me, just like I can't keep mine off you." He smirked again, mischief in his light blue eyes as he looked up at John.

It was difficult to say no to Sherlock, especially in this position, and John followed him easily. He moved to straddle Sherlock's thighs with a playful roll of his eyes."I am not sleeping with you." He placed a soft kiss on his partner's lips. "Tomorrow night we can shag all you want." Another kiss but this time John tugged at Sherlock's bottom lip with a small grin. "You owe me dinner." He let his hand slide under Sherlock's shirt, pulling it up as he ran a thumb across one of his fiancé's nipples.

Sherlock returned the kiss, his tongue moving to explore John's mouth. His arms wrapped around his fiancé to help support the other man and to pull him closer. He couldn't help but squirm into the man above him. His hands slipped under John's shirt, fingers digging in slightly as they scratched along the skin.

"Still not sleeping with you," John whispered into Sherlock's mouth despite the fact that his hips moved forward fractionally to press against Sherlock's stomach. No sex. That was for tomorrow night. They needed to sleep and get ready for the biggest day of their lives tomorrow. Shagging on the couch like two teenagers was the last thing they needed to be doing. "I'm not breaking this time." The muscles in his torso tensed under his fiancé's touch and he squeezed Sherlock's rib cage slightly.

Sherlock was about to argue with a witty come back, but the squeezing on his chest made him wince. Still tender. And no pain medication. Perfect. He let his hands fall to his sides, trying to ignore the pain and just concentrate on kissing John. That had always proved to be a good distraction in the past.

Shit. "Sorry," John whispered, pulling away from the kiss to look at Sherlock's chest. "Fuck, Sherlock, I'm sorry, I forgot." He dropped his head and opened his mouth to place several kisses across Sherlock's bruised ribs, his tongue lapping at the skin loudly. He stubbornly grabbed one of his partner's hands and moved it to his scalp. No shagging but that didn't mean he had to go without Sherlock's touch. His mouth continued to work at Sherlock's chest.

"It's fine. You were just trying to turn me on with pain." Sherlock gave a slight smirk. He closed his eyes in contentment, as John kissed his chest. His hand came to rest on his fiancé's head without a fight. His fingers ran the through the hair immediately. It was soft and pleasant to the touch again. Since his partner seemed resolute about no sex, he decided to let John control things and just kind of let his fiancé do whatever. It was his turn to follow the lead.

"I love you," John whispered against Sherlock's chest. "And this time tomorrow you will be my husband." He slowly pulled away from his fiancé's chest and looked up. "It makes me so happy to know that you will be mine." He moved his left hand to tunnel through Sherlock's hair slowly, his fingernails scratching at his scalp. "I don't want dinner anymore," he muttered as he studied Sherlock's face. "That dancing made me tired." He tilted his head and sucked at Sherlock's neck, making sure to make the mark where it would be easily covered for the ceremony tomorrow. "Want to go to bed snuggled up against you."

"Love you too." Sherlock opened his eyes to look up at John. He was about to say more, but the sucking on his neck disrupted any words that might have formed. He tilted his head, so his fiancé could have better access and not giving a damn if a mark could be seen later on. His lower torso squirmed, unable to contain the excitement his body was feeling. Fingers scraped through John's hair a little rougher than usual. At this point, he couldn't help the reactions of his body.

John couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. "Tomorrow I am going to make you scream." He let the words rumble in his chest. "Going to go slow, blindfold you, have complete control," he responded to Sherlock's movement with a small thrust of his own hips. "Going to lick wedding cake off your body."

"Oh, you think so? Guess I will need to pack a few extra things for Mum's then." Sherlock smirked up at John. The idea was appealing and exciting to him though and once more his body bucked into his fiancé's with a small whimper of desire. Shit. Just words were enough for him it seemed. He desperately wanted it all _now._ Was he really going to have wait until tomorrow? He supposed he could just always settle for a hot shower later.

If they really weren't going to do anything then he needed to stop now. At this rate they were most certainly doing something. John ran his left hand down Sherlock's chest as he met his fiancé's lips, moving slowly and cupping Sherlock through his pants. "Sherlock." He let his hand squeeze Sherlock's penis through the trousers. "Should probably stop."

Sherlock smirked a bit. "I'm not the one doing anything, you are my dear doctor." It wasn't often he felt sexually frustrated but he was certainly getting there now. Well, John had never left him frustrated before because they almost always finished what they started, even if they were in a ridiculous physical shape. Once more he couldn't help but squirm into his fiancé at the touch, despite it being through his trousers.

"Can't help it," John whispered softly, moving his hand across the bulge in Sherlock's pants with soft pressure. "Think I could get you off just through your trousers?" The question was serious but a curious look crossed his face. He was always up for new things and this was certainly something new for them. They had always made sure there was actual contact but now he wanted to try, wanted to watch Sherlock squirm.

Sherlock arched a brow. "Probably. It seems it doesn't take a lot to get me there these days. I think it is because you are so _adorable._ " He smirked and gave a slight shrug. "So no sex, but getting each other off is still okay. My dear doctor, sometimes you make no sense to me." The smirk grew with his teasing tone.

John's eyes shot up and narrowed instantly. "I am thirty-nine," he said softly. "Hardly the age for adorable." The hand on the front of Sherlock's trousers pressed harder forward. "Besides, I'm just asking. Have plans during the reception tomorrow." He tilted his head and nipped at Sherlock's jaw line. "I want to get you all worked up and just leave you here, to be honest."

"Plans during the reception? Why John Watson, in front of all those people? I have created a monster. Just so you know, if you do. I will be sure to squirm and make noise and _everyone_ will know. I can already see it. Mycroft staring at us with his constant disapproving look. My mum a mix between mortified, disapproving and a hint of amusement. Lestrade will probably be too embarrassed to look at us." Sherlock smirked. His fiancé wasn't the only who could play games.

Oh, that was how this was going to go now? John glanced at his fiancé and curled his hand so his fingernails would dig into the front of Sherlock's pants. "Except if you do that then I will just stop, leave you like that in front of everybody. Then you will have to get up for our dance like that." He gently met Sherlock's lips and rocked his hips forward slowly. "You wouldn't want that."

Sherlock smirked, his body reacting to John's touch once more. "Apparently you don't know me that well. I would. It would be a slight discomfort but the look on your face would be worth it. So, the question is this: Do you think I am bluffing? Guess we'll just have to wait and find out tomorrow." He leaned forward a bit, so his mouth could give attention to his fiancé's ear.

"I think, I know you very well, Sherlock Holmes," John whispered softly. He pulled his hand away and felt his breath catch at his fiancé's mouth on his ear. "And I think the moment I tou-" A small cry came from their bedroom and John dropped his head for a moment. The crying got louder and he glanced at his partner. "She probably needs her diaper changed. Needs a bath," he whispered.

Right. Of course. Their daughter. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder how many times moments like these would be interrupted. No time to be a selfish child. God, he really hated being an adult sometimes. "Do you want me to get it? Or did you want to?" He was silent a moment before admitting quietly, "I have never bathed her before…" Some father he was turning out to be.

"We could both bathe her if you want," John offered softly. "Because I haven't washed her either. I have been gone." He shifted and pulled himself away from his fiancé and managed to get to his feet. The crying from their room only got louder and John didn't hesitate to move toward their room. "Amy, honey." He picked her up and instantly held her against his chest. "Shhh..." He bounced her up and down but her crying didn't quiet at all. "You are not happy." He walked back into the living room. "There is a little water chair up in my old room. Would you go grab that?" John glanced at Sherlock over his shoulder as he slowly undressed Amy and set out a new outfit for her.

Sherlock nodded and went to the other room. He quickly recalled the part in the baby books about bathing an infant. He could do this. _They_ both could. When had been a parent become so terrifying to him? He looked around the room for a moment, before he finally found what he was looking for. This room was so different now. It would be little Sandi's once she was old enough. For a moment he stared at it, lost in thought. He was about to walk out, when a yellow rubber ducky on the dresser caught his eye. When he picked it up, it squeaked. Of course it would. Kids liked that kind of thing, right? He returned to John and Amy, trying not to show the nervousness he couldn't seem to get rid of.

Amy had calmed considerably when Sherlock returned and John was already filling the kitchen sink with lukewarm water. "Thank you." He grabbed the chair, placed it in the sink, and place Amy in it. She sat back and looked up at John blankly, one hand moving to splash at the water shakily. "Watch her?" He glanced at his fiancé and smiled softly. "Need to go get her soap and shampoo."

"Of course." Sherlock couldn't help but think of the various things that could go wrong while bathing an infant. Nope. He would surely drive himself crazy if he thought of every conceivable thing that _could_ go wrong. "Hey Baby Girl. I brought you this." He placed the duck in the water. "This is duck. It squeaks. Well, really they quack but I guess you don't really care." He squeezed the rubber duck and moved it around in the water. He felt a bit ridiculous but then again, he had talked to Amy while she was still in the womb. This was slightly less silly he supposed.

John moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs with a nod while Amy let her gaze fall on Sherlock. She watched him intently until she heard the duck squeak. She jumped slightly and her eyes went wide, watching the movement of the bright yellow object before looking back at Sherlock. It didn't take long for John to return to the kitchen with two bottles in hand but the sight in front of him made him stop. Sherlock was pushing a rubber duck around the sink to entertain Amy. "And you thought you would make a horrible father," he muttered as he moved to stand beside his fiancé. "You are doing just fine."

Sherlock glanced up to John. "Am I? I don't think she likes the duck very much. Although, it is impossible to know I suppose." He took the toy out of the water and placed it on the counter. He absently wiped his hand on his trousers, as he moved out of the way so John would be able to wash little Sandi.

"She didn't cry. That is always a plus," John muttered as he set the shampoo on the counter and poured some soap in his hand. "Amy, you need to get clean!" He smiled widely at her and ran his hands along her arms, chest and tummy. One hand lingered above her stomach and he tickled her gently, causing her feet to kick up slightly and splash water at his face. "Oh, really? Miss Amy, are you ticklish?" He repeated the motion and got the same treatment, this time with more water. "Goodness gracious, young lady! You are making a mess!" He reached into a cabinet and grabbed a small plastic cup, scooping some water into it. "Okay, let's clean those luscious locks of yours." He winced as he lifted his right hand to shield her eyes as his left dumped water on her hair. That she certainly didn't like. She gave a small cry and her Dad moved to quickly put shampoo on her scalp. The massaging fingers seemed to calm her slightly.

Sherlock smiled slightly as he watched John interact with little Sandi. His fiancé seemed to be a natural at it. The other man made it look so easy. "You seem to have this fathering thing down," he commented, as he leaned against the counter. "Sure you don't want to eat? Probably won't be time tomorrow until the reception."

John smiled softly and looked over at Sherlock. "Far from it," he muttered as he washed the shampoo out of Amy's hair and grabbed the towel he had brought over with her new clothes. He picked her up and instantly wrapped her in it. "Probably should eat or I might pass out at the altar." He chuckled slightly and stood on his toes to kiss his fiancé. "Have anything in mind? You should eat, too." He grabbed the new clothes and moved to the changing table with ease. "Unless we want to cook?"

"This will probably come as surprise, but I actually know how to cook." Sherlock gave a cocky smile and then shrugged. "I thought you wanted Chinese though? It doesn't matter to me. Food is food. One of those boring necessities in life." This time he smirked, as he leaned up off the counter.

"I just want you to be happy," John said softly as he put a new diaper on Amy. "I want you to eat." He glanced at Sherlock over his shoulder and raised a brow. "Let's order Chinese. Less of a mess to clean up before tonight." He pulled a new one piece outfit over Amy's legs and ignored her slight fussing as he pulled it over her arms. "I want orange chicken." He walked past Sherlock and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Get some sweet and sour sauce. Maybe I will lick it off you later," he growled. It was nearly a promise because at this point, especially after being interrupted, he was ready to jump on his fiancé. John moved to sit on the couch, placing Amy gently in his lap.

"Chinese it is, my dear doctor." Sherlock took out his mobile, called the restaurant and ordered their food in Chinese. He moved to the living room once he was done talking on the phone. He took a seat in his chair and it came as no surprise when Hamish jumped into his lap. He began petting the feline automatically. "So, we _are_ having sex tonight then?" He asked John with a smirk.

"Did you really think I was just going to not have sex with you? Christ, Sherlock, I can't keep my hands off you." John looked at his fiancé with a small grin. He had wanted to wait but he figured that having sex tonight could also be a plus. Last night as, technically, single men. "We will have to ask Mrs. Hudson to watch Amy so we can use the bed," he muttered in thought. That was his one moral responsibility, he figured. Don't shag your future husband in the same room as your daughter. That had to cross a line somewhere. It also just seemed a bit uncomfortable. Then again, so did asking Mrs. Hudson. The woman would know.

Sherlock smirked. "What if I want to wait?" He paused before going on. "Oh who am I trying to fool. I think I like sex more than you do." He gave another smirk. "I can ask Mrs. Hudson, if it will make you uncomfortable." He shifted a bit in his chair, causing Hamish to growl in discontent but remained on the lap. He glanced down to the feline. "Such a temperamental animal you are."

"I am fairly sure I have made you a sex addict." John laughed and grinned at his fiancé. "Besides, you asking Mrs. Hudson isn't going to make it any better. Sure, I don't have to do it but she will _still_ know what is going on. Not to mention the fact that she has heard us." He couldn't hide the blush that spread across his cheeks, his head dropping to look at Amy instead. She stared up at him with a bored expression, her thumb in her mouth. "Oh, God, a bad habit already."

"I don't know why you are worried about Mrs. Hudson knowing." Sherlock gave a slight shrug. He arched a brow at his fiancé. "Thumb sucking isn't a bad habit. It is what infants do naturally. Sometimes it starts even when still in the womb. Babies will suck pretty much anything within reach of their mouth. If it continues past the age of five, then we can start worrying. At least, that is according to the various books I have read."

"I am worried because...her knowing _what_ we are doing is just a bit awkward for me. Also, I might have performance anxiety, Sherlock." John looked at his fiancé sternly. It was the fact that somebody knew, especially their landlady, that they were shagging. The thought made him nervous. He glanced back at Amy and took a deep breath, relaxing back on to the couch. He was exhausted and the idea that they were getting married tomorrow wasn't helping. The knocking at the front door made him lazily turn his head.

"Boys, food!" Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with a smile, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Oh, hello there, Amy." She smiled warmly at the infant before glancing at Sherlock and John. "Tomorrow is the big day. I can't wait! Sherlock, your Mum has told me all about it!"

Sherlock merely smirked and shook his head at his fiancé, obviously amused. He looked over to Mrs. Hudson when she came in. "Would you mind looking after Amy for us tonight? John and I have some things to take care of before the wedding tomorrow." The smirk returned, eyes filled with mischief. It was obvious what he had meant, and he chanced a glance over to John to see his reaction.

"Oh, do you?" Mrs. Hudson grinned and winked at Sherlock. "Of course not, dears. I would love to watch her!"

"Sherlock!" John growled, a deep blush spreading over his cheeks. This was embarrassing. "If it isn't too much, Mrs. Hudson. I m-mean if you really don't wan-"

"John, calm down. You are both almost married. Have fun tonight! Just bring her down when you are ready!" She left the flat with a smile.

"I hate you. I literally hate you." John ignored the pain in his shoulder and grabbed his food with his right hand, opening and taking a bite. "You didn't have to do it like that. At all. Now she knows."

"Oh come on John, she would have figured it out either way and you know it." Sherlock opened his box of food, offering the meat out of it to Hamish. The cat gobbled the offered morsels greedily, issuing a small purr of appreciation. He used chopsticks with his other hand, and began eating the fried noodles. It had been awhile since he had eaten it, and he'd almost forgotten just how good the food was from there.

John stubbornly shoved another forkful of food into his mouth, shifting slightly to hold Amy more comfortably in his left arm. "No, she wouldn't have, Sherlock. I would have stayed quiet for the sake of keeping our activities private. I don't want all of Baker Street to know we're shagging," he grumbled. Sure, he was probably acting a bit like a child but he didn't like their private lives had to be known by everybody. That was why they were _private_. "I am going to make you scream tonight." He glanced up as Mrs. Hudson entered the flat again, grabbing the carrier for Amy as well as the diaper bag and several bottles. "D'you want me to carry her crib downstairs, then?"

"Oh, no dear, it is fine. Mycroft bought a second one for my flat, too. I think he knew I might be watching little Amy every once in a while." Mrs. Hudson winked at John as she took the infant.

John didn't respond, instead handing Amy off with a soft kiss to her forehead before shoveling more food into his mouth. He couldn't take this much longer.

Sherlock watched John with a frown. He had only meant to tease his fiancé, not upset him. Now he wasn't interested in food or even sex. He sighed at his thoughts, and forced himself to eat some more. He ended up feeding Hamish most of the food, rather than eating himself though. He let his gaze drift back over to the man on the couch. "John…I'm sorry…I was only teasing…" He hated when they got into fights, so he had forced himself to take the first step to fixing it.


	5. Chapter 5

Alright. The first apology. John glanced at Sherlock and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I know...you were only teasing. I'm sorry. I am just stressed and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He pushed his food away and shifted on the couch, moving his fiancé's food off of his lap so he could straddle it. "We are getting married tomorrow. We shouldn't be fighting." He gently met Sherlock's lips.

Hamish jumped off Sherlock's lap as soon as John came over. He smiled at his fiancé, arms wrapping around his partner immediately. "It is fine." He returned the kiss, tongue going to explore the other man's mouth immediately. He bucked against John eagerly, having gone to not interested to extremely interested in no time at all.

The small gasp that escaped John's lips was swallowed by Sherlock, his kiss getting more aggressive. "What do you want?" He asked softly against Sherlock's lips. At the moment he really just wanted Sherlock to shag him, to have the man behind him. "I have an idea if you are bored." He pressed at Sherlock's cheek with his nose before nipping at his partner's ear.

Sherlock was about to reply to the question but John's idea had him interested. He broke the kiss and moved his lips to his fiancé's ear. He kissed and nibbled on it before whispering into it, "What did you have in mind?" His fingers began to scratch through the shirt excitedly. He continued to rock against the man above him.

John let out a loud exhale through his nose. "Want you to take me from behind," he whispered with a small blush. In their love life he usually wasn't demanding but he had wanted this for a while. On top of that, it would put Sherlock in control. That was something he always enjoyed. "Is that alright with you?"

Something new. Sherlock was always up for trying new things. "Yes, but will you be up for it? Your shoulder isn't healed yet. It would put a lot of unnecessary pressure on it, my dear doctor, wouldn't it?" He pulled away from John's ear, so he could look his fiancé in the eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

Shoulder. That might be a problem. "What did you have in mind?" John asked softly, breathing hard as he met Sherlock's gaze. Of course his fiancé would be right. The position would have him pressed into the mattress with his chest, shoulders, and neck. "Because we could save that until the honeymoon if you don't want to."

"We should wait until the honeymoon," Sherlock replied and gave a gentle kiss on John's lips. "Nothing too strenuous. I rather enjoyed last time with you at the hospital. We can do all the crazy stuff in Italy." He smirked at his fiancé. "Until we are both better though, we should take things slow and easy. What do you think?"

Last time at the hospital had been wonderful despite their physical conditions. "Are you sure you would be up for that again?" He whispered against Sherlock's lips. Sherlock seemed a bit more healed than him so his idea was a bit better. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

"Why wouldn't I be up for it? That was the most amazing moment, we have ever shared together. Better than the first time we did it slow at Mycroft's." Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at John's question. "Only if you want to." Maybe he was finally calming down in his sex life. At first, it had all been new and exciting. Willing to try anything once. Well, he still liked those things but his perspective on sex had changed lately.

"Want to make love to you," John whispered as he stood slowly, tugging at Sherlock's hand with a warm smile. His pupils were dilated and a bulge was already appearing at the front of his pants. "Will actually get you off this time. Promise." There was a moment of hesitation on John's face as he backed into their bedroom. "I love you."

Sherlock followed after John, letting go of his fiancé's hand so he could begin taking his clothes off. "I love you too." He took off his shirt and for the first time in a long time, took note of the scars on chest and stomach. He wasn't self conscious of the disfigurement to his body like John was. He glanced up to his fiancé, closed the short gap between them and began kissing his partner's lips with earnest.

John let his eyes rake over Sherlock's scars before returning the kiss. He lifted his good hand into his fiancé's hair. His gut twisted and he let his finger trace his partner's scars lightly. Battle scars. Proof that their journey had been far from pleasant. John pulled away from Sherlock's lips and slowly started to unbutton his shirt, struggling slightly with his shoulder.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment as he watched John struggle with getting the shirt off. He lifted his hands and began helping him with the process. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, things would actually go right for them. That nothing would happen to disrupt their lives. He wasn't sure his fiancé could handle anything else upsetting right now. Not so soon.

John nearly denied Sherlock's help but let the other man help remove his shirt. "Thank you," he whispered softly as the shirt fell to the floor. The bandage on his shoulder was tinged a soft pink above his wound but he ignored it in favor of dipping his head down to kiss at the scar running down the center of his fiancé's chest.

The bandage didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock. "John…maybe we should wait, your wound has reopened. We should at least change it." It was hard to concentrate with his fiancé kissing his chest. He wrapped his arms around John in light hug, his lower body pressing into the other man's in need without even realizing it.

"It is fine," John stated almost instantly, his tongue darting out to trace the scar for a moment. Making love to Sherlock was the only thing on his mind right now and he didn't give a damn if his shoulder was bleeding. "Want you," he whispered as he lifted his head and nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip, his left hand moving so his thumb could run along the inside of Sherlock's waistband.

"I want you too, but…" Sherlock trailed off, as felt John's thumb run along his skin. Damn his fiancé for being so good at distracting him. He had more self control than that, right? Apparently not because he began nipping back at the other man's lip. His body continued to squirm into John's, as his fingers began to scratch down his fiancé's back.

John smirked and pressed himself against Sherlock. It wasn't often that the genius was made speechless and _he_ had done that. His left thumb dipped into the waistband of his fiancé's trousers and tugged gently, pulling Sherlock toward the bed. "Can't wait to be inside you," he whispered into Sherlock's ear as he pushed his hips forward.

Sherlock followed after John, having lost the will to argue further. He laid down on the bed, pulling his fiancé with him. His body writhed into the man above him, as he tilted his head up to nibble on John's neck. He brought his hands down to his sides, to pull at his trousers and take them off.

John smirked and batted Sherlock's hands away. "Why are you in such a hurry?" He sat up, momentarily missing Sherlock's mouth on his neck, and stayed straddling his fiancé's lap. "I have got you in quite the position." He scooted lower so he was resting on Sherlock's lower thighs and moved down to lap at his right nipple, securing his lips around it with a soft hum. His good hand managed to undo the button and zipper of Sherlock's trousers, sliding into his pants with confidence. It didn't take long for John to start slow, tight strokes with his hand.

Sherlock let John take control, dropping his hands to side. He glanced down to watch his fiancé, body bucking up into the man above him automatically, in reaction to the strokes. He let out a moan, hands rising once more to come rest on John's back and scratch along the skin. There wasn't much he could do, other than writhe and scratch the man above him. He was okay with that though.

"Like that, do you?" John lifted his head slightly and moved his mouth to nip at Sherlock's collarbone. Having control was something that he rather enjoyed, he realized, because having Sherlock beneath him moaning was the greatest thing he had ever seen. His hand stopped without warning, pulling out of Sherlock's pants. "Talk to me," he whispered as he pressed his hips down into his partner's. "Tell me how bad you want it."

Sherlock continued to writhe into John and smirked at his fiancé's word. "What if I don't want to talk? What will you do then my dear doctor?" He dug his fingers into John's back a little deeper and continued to scratch. The smirk returned as he looked up at his fiancé with mischief in his eyes. So, maybe he wasn't ready to give over total control yet.

"Suck you off until you're on the edge," John replied softly, his breath hitching at the feeling of fiancé's fingernails digging into his back. "Then leave you here and force you to beg for me to come back." He lifted his right hand and ignored the jolt of pain to his shoulder as he turned Sherlock's head to the side and pressed it against the mattress. He let his hips roll roughly into Sherlock's body, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Tell me how it feels, Sherlock."

"Oh, that sounds like it could be more fun. What do I get if I do what you want? I would like to make an informed decision here." Sherlock's smirk remained, and his finger continued to scratch roughly on John's back. Another moan as his fiancé pressed into him, his own body pushing back into the man above him.

"I will scream and let all of Baker Street know how wonderful you are," John whispered softly. "Even Mrs. Hudson." He pulled his hand away from Sherlock's face and shifted to meet his lips. It was soft, more gentle than the movements from the rest of his body. "Thought you wanted what we did in the hospital." His voice broke as he nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock returned the kiss, and forced his body to relax against the bed. "I do. I will behave…mostly…" He gave a smirk. "Just like the hospital, my dear doctor. Please?" His gaze locked onto John's as he continued to speak, "I want to feel you inside of me. Slow. Steady." He gave a smile, one hand dropping to his side and the other came to run along his fiancé's face lightly. "Just like the hospital. Please, for me?"

Sherlock's voice made John relax slightly and he leaned into his fiancé's touch. "Of course," he whispered softy. Anything for Sherlock, especially now. He shifted and sat up, looking down at Sherlock with a wide smile. "What are we going to do tomorrow night?" John asked as he leaned slightly to the side and reached into the nightstand. "Even bought actual lube for tomorrow night. Well, had Mycroft do it, but it should be better than Vaseline."

"Whatever we want? I am kind of more interested in what we are doing tonight." Sherlock gave a slight smirk. "Lube? Right. Read about that in one my books. Supposed to make things smoother. You know me, I am up for anything. For now though, I would like to make love to my soon to be husband." He smiled again, his gaze still fixated on John. His fingers coming to still just under his fiancé's chin, and his thumb running along it lightly.

John dropped his head slightly, taking Sherlock's thumb into his mouth but keeping has gaze locked with his fiancé's. He dropped the Vaseline next to Sherlock as he reached down with his good hand to start undoing his jeans. "At some point we are going to have to move," he muttered around Sherlock's thumb.

Sherlock couldn't help the squirming of his body, when John's mouth encompassed his thumb. "Well, I guess when we move is up to you. Since it looks like you are in control again. Twice in a row, consider yourself lucky my dear doctor." He smirked as his eyes closed. He was enjoying the feeling of his thumb being sucked on by John.

"Nothing to do with luck." John smirked around Sherlock's thumb before nipping at it. "You know you like letting me have control." He pulled his mouth away from his fiancé's thumb and turned his head to place a soft kiss on the inside of Sherlock's wrist. "Like being told what to do, like giving yourself to me." He took a deep breath and gently rocked his hips forward. "Take off your trousers."

Sherlock cracked an eye open to look at John, the smirk returning once more. "That is just what I want you to think." The smirk widened, but he complied with his fiancé's words. He pulled them down and then kicked them off the rest of the way. "Anything else you want me to do?" Both eyes were opened now, and he looked up at his partner with the smirk still plastered on his face.

"Kiss me," John whispered as he leaned forward to gently meet Sherlock's lips. He let his fingers trail along the inside of his fiancé's pants, tugging at the waistband before running down the inside of Sherlock's thigh. Being in control shouldn't be so wonderful but John was beginning to see why Sherlock enjoyed it so much. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to ever give it up. He pulled away from his partner's lips with a small moan. "Now let me make love to you."

Sherlock complied without hesitation, and returned the kiss. He wiggled in anticipation and excitement from John's touch. "Very demanding lover tonight, aren't we my dear doctor? Just so you know, this isn't exactly how things went at the hospital." He smirked but removed his pants anyway, kicking them off onto the floor as well.

John leaned to the side and shifted off of Sherlock, falling on to his back beside his partner. "Only okay when you're demanding?" He asked with a small laugh as he pushed his jeans down with his good hand and wiggled his hips to help the effort. "In a few moments it will be better than what we did in the hospital. I'm less injured." He managed to get his boxers down, too. "I will even be polite and prepare you so you don't have to do it yourself."

"Just because I like to try new things, doesn't make me demanding. It makes me…curious." Sherlock's smirk returned as he turned his head to look over at John. "Better than the hospital, hm? Let us hope you can exceed my expectations then. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?" The smirk broadened, his leg twitching a bit with anxious desire.

The time in the hospital had been so romantically charged that John wasn't very sure that he would meet Sherlock's expectations. Physically he could do that, no problem. He was feeling better, looking a bit better. "I would never want to disappoint you," he replied seriously, reaching out to run his thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone. "I would really love it if you'd get up here." He motioned his head toward his lap with a warm smile, moving slightly to gently kiss his fiancé.

Sherlock smiled back and returned the kiss. He complied once more, moving to be on top. "You have gone from demanding lover to polite gentleman." His smile twitched to a smirk as he looked down at John. "And just so you know, I don't think it's possible for you to disappoint me." He leaned down and began kissing his fiancé once more, his fingers trailing along his partner's chest lightly.

John eagerly returned Sherlock's kiss, arching slightly into the other man's touch. The feeling was perfect and made his hair stand on end. "I'm glad. I want to make you happy for the rest of your life," he said against his fiancé's lips. With his good hand he popped the top off the Vaseline and managed to get some on his fingers, moving without hesitation to push two of them into Sherlock's entrance. "I love you."

Sherlock let out a soft moan, when he felt John's fingers enter, his back arching in response as well. His body squirmed into the man below him excitedly. "I love you too." His fingers continued to trail up and down his fiancé's chest and stomach lightly. He leaned forward once more and began to nibble lightly on John's ear.

Every touch from Sherlock was wonderful and the moment his mouth was on John's ear, he let out a low moan. His hips lifted slightly into the man above him as he continued to prepare Sherlock, his fingers moving in and out of his fiancé with practiced ease. His bad arm lifted and managed to rest on Sherlock's back, scratching at the skin he could reach.

Sherlock moaned into John's ear, his body rocking in time to the fingers inside of him. The scratching fingers on his back caused him to momentarily stop paying attention to the ear of the man below him, to try and catch his now thready breath. Talk. Just like at the hospital. It was difficult to focus at the moment though. "John…feels good already. Can't wait for you to be inside me." He resumed nibbling and licking his fiancé's ear.

Just hearing Sherlock talk, especially like that, made him moan loudly. Mrs. Hudson certainly heard that. "Jesus, Sherlock," he choked on the words as his hips lifted involuntarily. Sherlock's new-found love of talking during their intimate moments was glorious. His right hand moved roughly down his fiancé's back, scratching at the skin without a second thought. John turned his head slightly and nudged Sherlock's cheek with his nose. As with wonderful as the attention on his ear was, he wanted to kiss his partner. "You are wonderful. Fuck, you're perfect." He gently met Sherlock's lips, ignoring how sloppy the kiss was.

Sherlock smirked as he returned the kiss, his body squirming excitedly and without rhythm now. "So, you have said. I am well aware of course." He resumed kissing, nipping on the bottom lip a bit. After a moment he broke the kiss to speak again. "You know, you are more than just my lover…soon to be husband. You're my best friend John. You're…" he trailed off for a moment, nibbling on his fiancé's lip in thought gently, "…you are the best thing that's ever happened to me." God, that was cheesy. It sounded like something stupid, like out one of those romance movies. It didn't make the words any less true though. He _needed_ John to know, understand just how much he meant to him.

 _That_ made John stop, pulling away from Sherlock's lips. He was panting as he slowly pulled his fingers out of his fiancé, keeping his gaze locked with the man above him. "Sherlock, you saved my life," he whispered, lifting his right hand from Sherlock's back to the side of his face. "I kept my pistol in the desk next to my laptop. I would have killed myself if I had never met you. My future husband, you are my anchor." He kept his gaze locked intently with Sherlock, his thumb rubbing his cheekbones gently.

When John stopped, Sherlock was worried that maybe he had said too much. He was about to laugh it off as silly sentiment but his fiancé finally spoke. He gave a smile, his gaze never wavering from the other man. Was it customary to keep a conversation like this going? He really didn't know. This was all very foreign to him. He suddenly felt out of place and unsure. Another foreign feeling. He hadn't felt this displaced since the first time John was in the hospital after getting shot at the store. Words finally found him. "I love you, please don't ever forget that."

"Never. And don't you forget it either." John lifted his head slightly to kiss his fiancé, making it slow to convey every emotion he was feeling. Happy. Excited. Love. John had thought that having sex the night before their wedding would ruin the actual wedding night but now he was happy they were here. It felt like it needed to happen. He moved his hand down to slick his cock before pressing it slightly against Sherlock's entrance. He held his partner's gaze as he slowly thrust forward.

Sherlock returned the kiss, and after a moment let his tongue enter his partner's mout. "John," he murmured behind the kiss when he felt his fiancé enter. With effort he managed to keep control of his body and prevented it from writhing wildly. He was eager but he needed to have some semblance of self control if things were going to be slow and easy. One hand trailed up to his partner's face, his fingers trailing over John's jaw line up to the side of the other man's face. His other hand remained gently going up and down his fiancé's chest. "Feels good. Don't stop. Please?" Begging seemed to make John happy, and Sherlock didn't mind obliging.

How in the world could he ever stop? John nodded numbly, turning his head to place gentle kisses against Sherlock's palm. "You feel wonderful," he whispered hoarsely, clearly having trouble talking. Goosebumps rose on his chest in the wake of Sherlock's gentle touch. His hips started a slow and steady rhythm, lifting slowly and dropping with a bit more speed. He would rest for a few seconds between each thrust, taking the time to use his good hand to run lightly against Sherlock's side."Fuck, yes!" The shout was loud and he couldn't help the blush that tinged his cheeks.

Sherlock matched the pace set by John, his lips coming to rest on his fiancé's ear to give it attention once more. When his partner shouted, he moved so he could look down at the man below him with an amused smirk. "Pretty sure the whole street just heard you my dear doctor." He leaned forward to kiss his fiancé on the lips once more, his tongue eagerly moving into the inside of his partner's mouth. The hand on John's face moved to the other man's hair, fingers running through it lightly.

John let out another moan, happy that he was kissing Sherlock so it would be easily hidden. He felt his body tense and he forced himself to stay calm and keep the same pace, his hips jerking up harder now instead of faster. "God. Oh, God," he whispered into Sherlock's mouth, his left hand dropping from his partner's back to wrap around his cock. "Sherlock," he ended the short statement with a loud moan, lifting his hips with such speed and power that the headboard smashed against the wall.

Sherlock wasn't ready for the change in power or pace, and he damn near collapsed on John. His fingers gripped the headboard and sheets to keep him stable. Luckily his finger didn't get smashed as the wooden frame rammed into the wall. "Jesus John…" It wasn't a complaint, merely surprise. After the initial surprise wore off, he began to match the rhythm of his fiancé. It didn't take long for his breathing to become erratic, his fingers curling into the sheets around his knuckles tightly.

"S-Sorry." John arched his back off the mattress with a low moan, the tendons in his neck pulled tight as he clenched his jaw. The emotional tie to their love making was making it better, more intense, and John was sure he was going to short circuit before the end of everything. The hand wrapped around his fiancé's penis tightened marginally before starting to move in slow strokes. He had other plans for Sherlock. The man deserved something better than a quick hand job and he was going to make sure he got what he really deserved after everything. "Christ, you're so fucking wonderful," he ended the sentence with a small shout, his head lifting to watch his hips lift off the bed slowly and pressed against Sherlock's.

Sherlock smirked and leaned his head down to whisper in John's ear. "Nonsense. You need to quit apologizing, my dear doctor. This is good…fantastic really. Loving everything." After he was done speaking, he began kissing his fiancé's ear and worked his lips down to his partner's chest slowly. He continued to match the pace set by John, moaning and whimpering from time to time due to all the amazing sensations he was experiencing right now.

With so much going on, the emotions raging through his body and the feeling of Sherlock around him and kissing him, he knew he wouldn't make it much longer. "Love you," he whispered as his hips lost their rhythm and pushed against Sherlock roughly. "So much." After a few more thrusts he tensed, coming with a loud shout, his feet scrambling against the mattress and blankets beneath him to try and keep himself pressed inside Sherlock as long as possible. He slumped against the mattress, occasionally tensing as he struggled to calm himself. "Shit," he muttered as he slowly opened his eyes. "You." He lifted one leg, wrapping it around Sherlock's waist and quickly turning them, effectively pinning Sherlock against the mattress. "You're brilliant, you are." He wasted no time in lowering his body and taking Sherlock's cock into his mouth.

"Love you too," Sherlock replied as lifted his to look at his John. He offered no resistance when their positions changed, the hand on the headboard dropping to a relaxed position on the sheets below him. His eyes closed and he couldn't help but buck into the mouth that was sucking on his penis. He forced himself to still after that. His breathing was still thready and sporadic. He craved more contact with his fiancé, so one hand reached down to run through his partner's hair once more. "John…this…is…" He trailed off panting. It was difficult to concentrate, with the flurry of pleasure coursing through his body at the moment.

John couldn't help the small gag as Sherlock thrust in his mouth, stopping for a moment to compose himself. Good Lord, if he had known how that felt he wouldn't have practically fucked Sherlock's mouth the several times he was sure he did. He moved his left hand to work the area his mouth couldn't reach, running his tongue along the underside of Sherlock's penis as he bobbed his head up and down. He hummed softly, lifting his eyes to glance at his fiancé. His mouth started working harder, sucking with a bit more purpose.

Sherlock had a hard time keeping his hips still for John. The hand in his fiancé's hair dropped to the sheets, gripping them tightly once more. After a little while, his body tensed and his fingers clung tighter to the bedding still as he let out loud moan. He relaxed after that. "…'sgood…" he panted out, his hand reaching up lazily and patting his partner on the head because he was much too worn out to do much else.

John swallowed as much as he could, pulling away with a small gag and grimacing when a bit of his own saliva dropped on to Sherlock's thigh. That was certainly a mood killer. He yanked at the blanket and managed to get a bit up to wipe off Sherlock's body before collapsing on top of his legs, his head resting on his partner's hip. "That was amazing," he muttered as his hand lifted to rub gentle circles against his fiancé's other hip. His gaze lifted and he studied the consulting detective with a soft smile. They were getting married tomorrow. A few hours. "Husband," he stated absently, closing his eye and tilting his head to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's hip bone.

The spit on his leg barely registered for Sherlock. He was concentrating on breathing normally again. A small smile etched his lips. "Soon. Tomorrow. I wonder if Mum will allow me to change into normal clothes after the ceremony is over. Ugh. I forgot about the photographer. Maybe when _that's_ done..." His leg twitched a bit where John rubbed circles on it, as he thought out loud. He lifted his hand to run through his fiancé's hair.

"You aren't allowed to take off that bloody tux," John said as he swiftly lifted his head. "I am ripping it off of you. Period. And I want photograph." He climbed up Sherlock's body and rested his head lightly on his fiancé's shoulder. "I still don't understand why I am the one wearing white," he muttered with a bit of a frown as he shifted slightly. The bandage around his shoulder was tinged a bit darker now. "Need to change this," he whispered but made no move to move away from Sherlock's side.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock sighed but nodded anyway. He frowned as he looked down at John's shoulder. "Here, I'll get it. You stay here and rest." He kissed the top of his fiancé's head, sat up and as he did so became aware of the pain in his chest. He ignored it and hobbled out of the room. Even with some kind of lubricant it was a bit awkward to walk right after shagging. When he reached the bathroom, he took a moment to catch his breath. He winced and closed his eyes, the pain in his chest had intensified. Fuck, he could really use some drugs right now. No. He was doing so well. What had he come here for? Bandages. Right. He grabbed a box and made his way back to the bedroom, once more ignoring the aches of his body. He didn't want John to worry so when he walked back in he smiled. "Couldn't find them at first because I was thinking about how damned amazing you are during sex." That was a good excuse as any he figured.

John glanced up at Sherlock momentarily before returning his eyes to his hand skillfully removing the bandage. "Broke my stitches," he muttered with a tight smile. "C'mere, I am going to need your help." He stood slowly, grabbing the box and placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. He entered the bathroom and dug around under the sink before finding a forest green box and setting it next to the sink. "It wasn't my amazing sex that took you so long," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Even though I am amazing." He opened the box and searched around for a moment. "How's your chest doing?" He asked knowingly.

Sherlock followed John back to the bathroom and couldn't help but smirk. "I sometimes forget how astute your doctor skills are. Honestly? I feel like I got kicked and punched all over again. That is largely due to my stubborn refusal to pain medication. It will pass, it always does." He shrugged and immediately regretted it. He was certain his cracked rib would never heal at this rate, given their penchant for sex. They were supposed to be resting to get better for their honeymoon but somehow he doubted that would actually get accomplished.

"You are doing very well." John smiled softly and turned to gently meet Sherlock's lips. He pulled a small white package from the box and then a slightly bigger one. After glancing at himself in the mirror, tilting his head and pursing his lips, he grabbed a pair of scissors in a package and set them on the counter. "I am going to need you to hold some toilet paper or...something under my wound. Think you can do that?" He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and finally flipped the green box shut.

"Pretty sure I can handle that," Sherlock replied with a slight smirk. He pulled some toilet paper off the roll, wrapping it around three fingers a few times before tearing it off. He applied it once John was ready for him to do so, hoping it wouldn't cause too much pain to his fiancé.

John smiled for a moment before opening the scissors, cutting off the old stitches and quickly grabbing Sherlock's hand and pressing them to the wound with a small hiss. "Shit, forgot how much that hurt," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes pressing shut. He set the scissors down in the sink and picked up the two other packages, ripping them open with his teeth. "You will probably need some more," he commented without glancing at his fiancé. He pulled several curved needles, prepackaged with the blue surgical sutures attached. He didn't hesitate to pick the first one up, stab it into the skin surrounding his wound, and successfully tie the first stitch. "Five left." He glanced at Sherlock and managed a tight smile as a small stream of blood started to run down his arm.

With his free hand Sherlock reached over and got more toilet paper, making sure to hold the other hand in place firmly. Once he had another wad wrapped around his other hand, he resumed a more comfortable position. He stayed still and watched his fiancé work in silence, so as not to disrupt John's surgical procedure.

John moved with ease to re-stitch his wound, slumping back slightly when he finished. "Oi, that was tougher than I remembered." He glanced at Sherlock, lopsided and exhausted. He picked up his mess, tossing everything in the trash and putting back the green box. "There we go, then." He quickly re-bandaged it and turned to his fiancé. "I hope that is the most drama we have the next few months." He moved forward and gently met Sherlock's lips. "Christ, I want to shag you again."

Sherlock dropped his hand to the side when it wasn't needed anymore. "I would be okay with that being the most drama we have for the next few _years_." It had been a little over a year and half since their world had been turned upside down by Moriarty and even with the man dead, his criminal network was still able to get to them. The thought was frustrating. However, his thoughts dissipated when John's lips met his and he returned the kiss with a smirk. "Already? I'm not sure which of us is more sex driven…" The smirk broadened as heresumed the kiss.

John couldn't help but laugh into the kiss, pulling away slightly. "Probably you. You are a few years younger, have that mind that could probably give you a hard-on in the next few minutes. I am rather normal." He reached around his fiancé and gently squeezed his arse. "Glanced at the clock on the way here. It is nine. We are getting married in, what, thirteen hours?" He ran his hand down Sherlock's side gently. "Want to drink some tea, nibble on some biscuits, and make googly eyes at each other across the kitchen table?"

The smirk returned. "Me? You are the one ready to go at it again." Sherlock gave John a quick kiss on the nose. "Googly eyes?" He echoed, with slightly raised eyebrows. "What the hell does that mean?" He thought about the context of the sentence and still came up empty. All he could come up with is staring longingly into each other's eyes. He wasn't sure if that was right, since it wasn't something they really did, even when making love. How was it there was always something new to learn in a relationships? They were far more complex than he had first realized.

"Y'know, sit across from each other? Play footsie and giggle like a bunch of teenage blokes? Haven't you ever found somebody attractive and just stared at them? Don't know why?" John's gut clenched at the example because, more often than not these days, he found himself watching Sherlock's every move. After a moment he would realize that he was literally staring at his fiancé with his mouth ajar. "And then you realize you just can't stop because they are... wonderful and perfect." His gaze locked intently on the man in front of him.

Sherlock frowned and shook his head. "No. Although it shouldn't really come as a shock to you, since I have never been remotely interested in anyone until I met you. And since we have never done that…" He trailed off with a shrug. Did people really do that? He supposed they did, if there was actually a term for it. It seemed pretty silly to him but he had been doing a lot of silly things lately. Talking to an unborn child. Playing with a rubber duck that squeaked. His life really had changed drastically as of late.

It shouldn't have hurt him, really. This was Sherlock, after all. But the pang he felt in his chest, that odd feeling of just being doused in ice water was a bit hard to ignore. "Right. Yes. Well, people generally do that. Just stare at people they find attractive." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek and moved back into their bedroom, moving to the dresser before yanking on a new pair of underwear and a pair of old pajama bottoms. "Should probably just sleep, then. Big day tomorrow and such." He muttered as he discarded the blanket he had used to clean them earlier, tossing it on the floor with a bit more force than necessary.

Sherlock followed his fiancé to their bedroom with a confused frown on his face. John's body language spoke volumes. However, he wasn't really sure what he had said or done to upset his fiancé. Was this over the 'googly eye' thing? It seemed likely since that was when the other man's demeanor had changed. He sighed, not really understanding still. Yes, it woudl seem relationships were a whole lot trickery to maintain than he originally thought. He decided to stay quiet, so as not to upset John further. He didn't want to fight the night before their wedding.

What Sherlock had said was honest, truthful, and John was acting like nothing more than a child. He kept his back to his fiancé for a long moment before taking a deep breath, letting his shoulders drop and losing any sense of perfect posture he'd had before. "So you haven't ever...I dunno, caught yourself just staring at me?" It was said with uncertainty, his voice low and struggling. "You don't ever just watch me do something simple like make tea or read the paper? And then wonder why the Hell it fascinated you so much?"

The next few questions left Sherlock more confused than he already was. Were these trick questions? Was there a right or wrong answer here? He wanted to answer with whatever would make John happy for the sake of avoiding a fight. He thought seriously on the questions in quiet contemplation, as he reviewed every moment shared with John in the last year or so. "Sometimes when I don't sleep when you do, I will just lay next to you and watch. Or when we shower together…" He trailed off with uncertainty. Better to tread lightly at this point.

Sherlock's words seemed to relax John slightly. His head fell forward with a small sigh of relief. Watching him when he slept was one of the most romantic things he could imagine. "Yes, like that," he whispered as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. He wasn't sure why his back was still to Sherlock but it was easier to talk everything out like this for him. "Sherlock, there are times when you will be doing something so incredibly domestic, like making the bed or reading a book...and I can't keep my eyes off of you. It's simple and stupid and, quite frankly, silly, but watching you do normal things is the most beautiful thing ever."

Jesus Christ, where was the conversation going? Sherlock felt more and more confused with each word John spoke. He was left clueless on how to respond yet again. His fiancé didn't seem to be as upset but the other man still wouldn't turn and look at him. This whole situation was beginning to frustrate him. He didn't understand anything that was happening right now. Would no response make things worse or better? It had been a long time since he had felt lost in the workings of normal social interaction. He had improved on it a lot, all thanks to John but in this very moment he felt like he had forgotten everything he had ever learned and was stuck on square one again.

Silence. John closed his eyes for a long moment, biting his bottom lip before turning around to glance at Sherlock nervously. "I just...I know you are different and that you hadn't been interested in anybody, really, before me." He wouldn't mention Irene, the tension in the room was already high. "But I guess I just expected you to tell me that you did little things like that, too. That you caught yourself watching me make the tea and couldn't stop looking. It's...stupid." He shook his head, clearly embarrassed now for making such a scene out of it. "Should we just go to bed?"

The frown on his face deepened. Sherlock was still trying to understand what was going on. Or rather more accurately, comprehend what had happened to upset John. He wanted to know for future reference, so this awkward conversation wouldn't ever repeat itself. He wasn't in the least bit tired but decided to just to agree anyway. "Yeah…sure…" He had never been so unsure in his whole life. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

It had become normal for Sherlock to snuggle into John in the past few weeks but right now John wanted nothing more than to cuddle into Sherlock's side and fall asleep. "I have made you uncomfortable," he stated as he moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. It wasn't a difficult thing to spot. The man in front of him was speechless, agreeing to things that he would normally object to. "I'm...just. I know our relationship is far from normal. It is pretty obvious, really. I guess I was expecting something really domestic of you. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Sherlock sighed. He had kept mostly silent to avoid a fight. Apparently his fiancé didn't want to let the subject drop. Fine. "John, I just don't understand why you got upset in the first place. I really _don't know._ Did you want me to lie to you and say yes? Would that make you happy? I'm sorry but I don't. I'm not really sure why it comes as surprise to you. You are one of the few people who get me and of anyone, I thought you would _understand_ that but instead you get upset. It just…doesn't make sense to me is all. I have changed myself and pretty much my entire way of living for you, but there are some things about me that won't change. If you have a problem with that then maybe…" He stopped himself dead right there. "Fuck, I need a cigarette…" He craved more than that really and he turned to leave the room. So much for not starting a fight. Why couldn't John have just gone to bed like suggested? But _no_ his fiancé just _had_ to press the issue.

John felt sick to his stomach and let his head drop. That sentence would have ended badly. He knew the words and they were echoing in his mind. "I still want to marry you," he said softly, lifting his gaze to his fiancé. "I always will. I am madly in love with you. I got upset because...sometimes I just want to hear things from you that I know I will never hear and that is something I am still trying to figure out myself. But...don't ever, for one second, think that I will _ever_ regret asking you to marry me." He stood up slowly. "The past two times we have made love I've felt something with you so strong that I can't even put it into words and I just thought...I don't know. I know you love me and I know you are just as committed to this relationship as me, but I just wanted to hear something like that from you. I am acting childish, I know, but sometimes lovers just want to hear that from each other. When you said you watched me sleep." He paused and shrugged, slapping his left hand against his thigh. "It made me happy. That was something I wanted to hear."

Sherlock stopped at the doorway but didn't turn around. "So what? You just want me to make something up next time, is that it? Tell you what you want to hear? Apparently even if I do, it still isn't good enough. So really, I lose either way." John wasn't the only one who could be a child. In fact, on many occasions he had been told just how much of child he could be at times.

John's gut twisted. So even the sleeping thing had been a lie? He lowered his head and shook his head. "That isn't what I'm saying," he said softly. His words didn't have any fight left in them, now he was just grasping to keep his fiancé in the same room as him. "I am saying that I understand you will never say something like that, or do something like that, but that." He took a shaky breath. "That it doesn't mean I don't want to hear it." This was ridiculous. The night before their wedding and they couldn't even stop fighting. Over something as stupid as just wanting to hear little romantic things from his fiancé. He was being selfish. Something inside of him snapped and his hands twisted into fists, his foot slamming into the floor. Christ, Sherlock was still naked from the last time they had shagged. They couldn't even wait that long to start fighting again. "I just want proof that you love me, damn it!"

"Proof? John…" Sherlock trailed off, his voice broken. What else could he possibly do to show his fiancé he loved him? Everything done in the last year and half had been for the other man. He wasn't angry anymore, just hurt. His shoulders slumped back and he leaned into the door frame for support, his knees suddenly too weak to support his body. "Everything I have ever told you has been nothing but the truth but sometimes I feel like, whatever I tell you just isn't good enough for you. I don't…I don't know what you want from me in moments in like those…" His voice was soft, barely audible. His head leaned against the wood, eyes closing against the moisture in his eyes.

Shit. That had...sounded a lot better in his head. "No. No." John rushed forward without a thought. Fuck the fight, he had literally just broken Sherlock down with one sentence. "I know you love me, Sherlock Holmes." He wrapped his parnter in a fierce hug. "Everything. Cleaning the flat and emotions and saving my life. Twice. And Amy and...oh, God, you are the most wonderful..." His voice broke and cracked rib be damned, he held Sherlock tighter. "This is stupid. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to go to bed every night and have to fight you for the blankets and wake up in the morning laughing because you won. You _always_ win. And I don't care if you can't tell me cute little sentimental things because I can see it. Just _see_ it every time you look at me and that's enough. It will always be enough." He fought the tears that he felt in his eyes, clutching at his Sherlock in desperation.

Sherlock slumped into John heavily, his head resting on the other man's shoulder. He didn't care about the pain in his chest from the tight embrace. It was better than feeling his current state of being. He returned the hug, unable to find words at the moment because really he had already said everything he'd wanted and needed to. He just continued to cling to his fiancé, in fraught need. Eventually words came to him. "I love you. I'm sorry." He wanted to beg John not to go, but he couldn't bring himself to say those words, fearing if spoken it might actually come true. Ridiculous of course but the thought of losing his dear doctor was the most terrifying thing he could ever contemplate.

No fighting. Ever. They couldn't keep doing this to themselves. It only ended in this. Slumping against each other for support and physically begging each other to not leave. "I love you, too," he whispered into Sherlock's hair. "And I could never imagine myself with anybody else. Ever. You are perfect." He ran his hand gently up and down Sherlock's side, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I know you love me and you have shown me and I know you always will."

Why did they keep fighting like this? Sherlock had tried so hard not to, but despite his best efforts here they were in the aftermath of one. Was this normal in other relationships? It just felt like not even a week could go by without a dispute of some sort erupting between them. He continued to cling tightly to John, unwilling to let go of his fiancé at the moment. "I love you," he repeated for no real reason other than making sure John _actually_ knew. He lifted his head off his fiancé's shoulder and pressed their lips together roughly, desperate to prove himself now.

John opened his mouth to reply, to let Sherlock know how much he meant to him, but he was taken aback by his partner's kiss. Rough. Needy. Desperate. They hadn't been this rough since...since Sherlock had caught him with Sarah. He had torn Sherlock down that bad. Guilt raged through his body and he surrendered to the other man's mouth, opening his lips with a small gasp of air. His good hand lifted to tangle in Sherlock's hair hesitantly, realizing almost instantly that his fiancé was in control and there would be no dispute about. Sherlock needed to be in control after what John had just done to him.

Sherlock continued to kiss John aggressively, opting to breathe through his nose rather than break it. He wasn't really ready for a second go around, but the desire to be close to his fiancé was overwhelming. He began moving forward, in hopes of backing the other man into the bed so he could straddle John. His embrace around his fiance slackened slightly, as he began scratching his fingers up and down the skin on the back.

John followed Sherlock's feet, stepping backward without a question. When the mattress hit the backs of he knees and sat obediently, taking quick and shallow breaths in through his nose. This was more intense than what he ever remembered and suddenly John wanted to _breathe_. He pulled away from Sherlock's kiss with a gasp, panting for breath and grimacing from the scratches to his back. He glanced up at Sherlock, internally smirking at their position. John was usually straddling Sherlock but now here he was, his lap full of his fiancé.

When the kiss finally parted, he inhaled deeply once and then began sucking on John's neck, marking the skin in various spots. Despite his inability to get an erection at the moment, he pressed into his fiancé's lower body tightly. Once he was satisfied that he sufficiently marked the man below him, he began nipping, licking, and sucking on John's ear. His fingers had begun to trail down his fiancé's side, leaving light red streaks in the wake.

The pain was too much but John let Sherlock get it out of his system. Christ, those were going to be visible tomorrow at the wedding with his tux on. John's muscles tensed under his fiancé's harsh touch. His hand moved hesitantly to return the touches, scratching once down his partner's back. Apparently they weren't over their rough stage just yet. He lifted his hips slightly to reciprocate the movement of the man above him, letting out a soft groan at every ounce of pain his body was feeling.

Sherlock continued the rough treatment on John's body for a little while longer, until it became abundantly clear he wouldn't be able to perform. He sighed in frustration and rolled off of his fiance. For a moment, he laid on his back panting as he caught his breath. After the intensity of emotions died down, he turned to look at John and cringed when he saw the damage done to the other man's body. "Sorry," he muttered and reached over to gently take John's hand.

"Fine. 'S fine," John managed to say between desperate pants for breath. His body could literally feel everything. The scratches down his sides were stinging and the marks on his neck were doing nothing to help calm his mind. "Your Mum is going to kill us. People are going to be able to see this tomorrow." He squeezed Sherlock's hand softly and fell back to lay beside his fiancé, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. "Also, you might look into trimming your fingernails."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "You haven't seen the tuxedos, have you? They will be a tight fit, coming up to our chin with that stupid tie. Should be okay still. Although, I am sure my brother will give us an earful. At least we don't have to worry about a rehearsal dinner. There wasn't enough time to set one up." He brought a hand up to inspect his fingernails, he supposed they were a bit long. Grant it, trimming his nails hadn't been something he had really worried about in the last month or so.

Of course Mycroft would know. It was some secret Holmes skill to know and see everything about everybody. "Bloody wonderful," John whispered with a soft laugh. "I love you." He turned slightly and placed a kiss on the side of Sherlock's arm, struggling to move. He had taken a bit of a beating from the other man. "Even if you do use me as a personal punching bag." Except, really, he had deserved every last mark on his body.

"I love you too." Sherlock was about to say more but cringed at John's last words. His fiancé had been through enough abuse, physically and mentally, that the other man didn't need any more added to it. "I'm sorry," he uttered, feeling rather miserable about it now. "Wanted to show you how much I loved you…" He tried to explain and realized how lame the excuse, no matter how true, sounded.

In Sherlock's head he was sure that was really showing John how much he loved him. "You marked me as yours. I believe you." He smiled softly and turned to curl into his fiancé's side with a small sigh. Warm. Comfortable. Curling against Sherlock was possibly his favorite thing. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and focus on each area of pain on his neck. Five. Five love-marks. Christ, Sherlock had _really_ wanted John to know that he loved him. "You will have to top that...tonight. We are getting married today." He looked up at his fiancé with a tired smile.

Sherlock managed a small smile at John's words. He was nowhere in the mood now, to the point he didn't even want to think about sex, let alone actually doing anything sexual. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. That didn't mean his fiancé shouldn't. "You should try and get some sleep before we have to be at my Mum's." He placed an arm around John tentatively, mindful of the scratches and careful not to aggravate those areas.

Sleep. John tensed involuntarily at the word but nodded softly against Sherlock. He really should try and get some sleep. His fiancé hadn't said anything but he knew he looked horrible after the past few weeks. "You sleep, too, you stubborn git," he whispered against his partner's chest. "We need to look good for tomorrow." The statement ended in a yawn and John shifted, hooking one leg over one of Sherlock's and pressing tightly against him before his breathing dropped off almost instantly


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock wasn't tired and even if he was, there was no way he would be able to sleep right now. Would he be able to slip out of bed, without disturbing John? He needed some time and space to himself so he could think. Maybe smoke a cigarette or at this point a whole pack. He moved away from his fiancé experimentally and then hesitated to see if the other man would stir.

John's face scrunched lightly and he instinctively moved closer to the warmth of Sherlock's body in his sleep. He mumbled something under his breath, clutching slightly at his fiancé as he twisted on the bed, tangling himself in the bed sheets as he turned away.

Sherlock stilled with a quiet sigh. He didn't deserve to be next to John right now. Didn't deserve to be married to the man next to him. He sighed again at his thoughts. Maybe Mycroft was right. Maybe they _shouldn't_ get married so soon. Maybe they shouldn't get married period. The excitement he'd had was now replaced with doubt and fear. John needed someone better. Someone who could offer all those little things that Sherlock just couldn't quite grasp. Pre marriage jitters. That was all this was, right? Everyone had second thoughts in times like these…didn't they? He slid a foot off the bed and searched around on the floor with it and trying not to squirm too much. Eventually he found his trousers and he picked them up slowly by digging his toes into them. He reached into the pocket and pulled out his mobile. He turned away from his fiancé slightly, so the glare from the screen wouldn't wake the sleeping man. He sent a text to Mycroft.

_I don't know if I can do this. Maybe you were right. Maybe we should just call this whole thing off. –SH_

"Your mobile just went off," Greg muttered, burying his face deeper into Mycroft's side. When he didn't hear a reply he reached up and gently tapped his fiancé's cheek. "Oi, lazy git, your mobile."

"Fine." Mycroft opened one eye, reaching out to grab his mobile. The bright screen made him wince but the text he read made him wake up. "No," he whispered softly, slowly moving to sit up.

"What?" Greg pulled away from Mycroft's side almost instantly. He didn't receive and answer as Mycroft tapped steadily at the keys in forming his reply.

_This is normal. Cold feet. You can't be doing this now. You get married in nine hours, Sherlock. What happened? -MH_

Sherlock had put his mobile on silent mode, so it wouldn't make noise or vibrate. He would just wait for the screen to light up momentarily and for the icon to appear to know when a new message arrived. Eventually his older brother had text him back. He didn't really answer the question asked when he replied to it.

_He deserves someone better. Someone who can offer him all the things I can't. –SH_

Mycroft ran a hand down his face and glanced at Greg for a long moment. The intensity of the situation hit the Detective Inspector instantly. This was not good at all.

_Ever consider talking to John about this? He is the one who proposed to you. He certainly seems to think you are good enough for him. What happened, Sherlock? –MH_

Sherlock took a moment to think before replying.

_John is asleep. We have talked about this, sort of. I guess. I don't know. We got into a domestic tonight. Almost as bad as the night he took his ring off. –SH_

Mycroft read the text multiple times before slowly replying.

_People have domestics, Sherlock. It happens. John wants to marry you. Unless you want to tell him tomorrow morning that you don't feel like marrying him then you need to focus. This is normal. Cold feet, like I said. What was the fight about? –MH_

Sherlock didn't really feel like answering that question but did anyway. He ended the message in a sigh.

_Truthfully? I am not really sure. He got upset because I don't make "googly eyes" at him? I don't know. I tried to understand and then I got frustrated when I didn't. I went to leave, because I didn't want to things worse. Then John yelled at me, saying he wanted me to prove my love to him. –SH_

Oh. A fight over attention, over the simple things in a relationship that would be difficult for Sherlock to grasp.

_John is normal, ordinary. He wants those things out of a relationship. I think he meant more of...just catching you watching him or something. Did you beat him up pretty bad? –MH_

Ugh. This was pointless. Sherlock almost didn't reply.

_Forget it. And John isn't ordinary! I will see at Mum's later today. - SH  
_

He deleted the messages received and sent to his brother before tossing the mobile onto the floor. That hadn't helped at all. Hamish jumped up on the bed and then curled up on Sherlock's chest. He petted the cat, staring at the darkness. This was going to be a long night.

John tensed on the bed, breathing heavily before he shot up. He was panting and clutching desperately at the blankets, his eyes darting around the room. "Sherlo-" He turned slightly and the moment his eyes fell on his fiancé he relaxed fractionally. Sherlock. Alive. In bed. "Sherlock." He reached a hand out tentatively and ran his fingers lightly across the other man's arm. Real. "Oh God, Sherlock." He ignored the small cat and moved to kiss his partner.

Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get used to John waking up from a nightmare. Probably not. He took his fiancé's hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He returned the kiss, lifting his head partially to meet John half way. Hamish remained in place but he could feel the cat's tail lashing around on his stomach.

John didn't hesitate in exploring his fiancé's mouth, only pulling back when he started to feel lightheaded. "Sorry," he whispered, his eyes studying Sherlock's face in the dark. The other man knew, he always knew, and John knew he didn't even need to be apologizing but waking up like that was unpleasant for him. It couldn't be very lovely for Sherlock, all relaxed before John shot up like some madman. "No sleep for you, then?" He asked hoarsely. "Getting cold feet?" He asked jokingly, nudging his partner's foot with his own.

Sherlock gave a slight shrug. "Just not tired. I rarely am though." He was quiet a moment after that. "Why are you marrying me? I know you say I am perfect and wonderful...but I'm not..." Usually he was confident, cocky, arrogant man but this last fight had left him rattled. And now he was questioning every little thing about himself.

John's eyebrows were brought together in confusion. Of course Sherlock was wonderful, perfect. How could he not see that? "I am marrying you because I can't imagine you not being here. I decided when I was in Afghanistan that I wanted you to be there every moment of my life. I guess it is selfish but I couldn't help myself." He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugged with his good shoulder. "Thinking about my life without you in it scares me." He looked down at their intertwined hands and nervously squeezed his fiancé's hand. "Why?"

Sherlock was quiet again for awhile. "I don't know...just over thinking everything probably..." He turned on his side so he was facing John. "We are getting married in a few hours. Guess I am just nervous. That is...normal right?" He leaned in and gave his fiance a quick kiss. "I love you."

John was curious to know why Sherlock was marrying him but after their most recent fight he was fairly sure that Sherlock might not have any reasons. "Yes, that is a bit normal," he whispered, returning the kiss with a smile. "Being nervous before big life moments is _very_ normal. But, honestly, I can't wait to call you my husband." He moved slightly to tangle their legs together, a sheepish grin on his face.

Sherlock smirked a bit and snuggled into John carefully, resting his head on his fiance's good shoulder. His movement made Hamish jump off and leave the bedroom. "Can we just lay like this for awhile?" He didn't really feel like doing anything, but he needed the closeness of physical contact for reassurance he supposed.

"Of course we can," John whispered softly. If Sherlock needed support then John would give it to him. "Before my first deployment to Iraq I cried all night. So, really, you are doing a lot better before such a big event than most people." He placed a soft kiss into his fiancé's hair. Laying like this, surrounded by silence, was something he would never give up. "For always asserting your dominance you sure do like to snuggle against me," he whispered against the top of Sherlock's head with a smile, his arm wrapping around his partner's shoulders protectively.

Sherlock frowned a bit at John's admission, his hand squeezing his fiancé's once more. He was certain on given any other day and circumstance he would have had some sort of comeback to that last sentence, but right now Sherlock just didn't have it in him. He realized he was more than just nervous, he was _scared_. What if John left someday because things just didn't work out? What if they continued to keep fighting? He snuggled closer into his fiance, the grip on the other man's hand tightening without him noticing.

"Hey, calm down." John glanced down at his fiancé. The grip on his hand was rather obvious. "It is fine. We will be fine. You wait and see. We are getting married." His other hand ran soothingly up and down Sherlock's side. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

Sherlock shook his head and relented the tight grip on John's hand. His eyes closed, not to sleep but just in hopes of clearing his mind. He needed to relax. His fiancé was right; everything would work out for the best. He _had_ to believe in that otherwise he would just drive himself crazy and sick with worry. He snuggled closer to John still, his body finally relaxing.

"Okay," John whispered as he felt his fiancé relax. He shifted slightly to pull the blanket over both of them. "I am the luckiest man in the world. Soon you will be my husband." He craned his neck to get a decent look at Sherlock's face. "And I couldn't see myself marrying anybody else." His fiancé was being too quiet and that was almost never good.

Sherlock didn't want to worry John, so he kept all his stupid insecure thoughts to himself. His eyes remained closed as he continued his contemplative silence for a few minutes longer. "Thank you. I am fine now. Just…needed a moment…" He was quite comfortable snuggled in close to his fiancé, so he stayed put. He wished at the moment he was actually tired, because sleep would allow him to escape his own mind. He had pretty much thought of every kind of fight happening between them occurring and finally it was just too much and John left. Now he was okay, his fiancé's words had been enough to ground him and keep him sane.

John took the hint and bit his bottom lip, choosing to run his hand soothingly down Sherlock's side. It was the middle of the night and he was fighting sleep, occasionally shaking his head. Sherlock needed him right now. Falling asleep wouldn't do anything for them. Kissing. Didn't kissing always make them both a bit happier? John moved his head and gently met his fiancé's lips, making sure the kiss was gentle and slow.

Sherlock returned the kiss and matched the pace of it set by John. He turned and shifted his body a bit so he could straddle his fiancé. He leaned down, so their bodies were pressed together. He was still in desperate need of the close contact. After a moment of enjoying and savoring the kiss he broke it and stared down at John. "The problem with being a genius is I think of _everything_. That last fight just…freaked me out I guess, and it jump started my brain into thinking way too much. But just like the first day we met, you saved me. Time and again, you have. Whether it be from some crazy madman or myself. I can always count on you to be there. So when I said 'thank you' earlier…that is what I meant…"

John pressed his chest against Sherlock's in response, taking a few shallow breaths as he held his fiancé's gaze. Any bit of emotion from Sherlock was cataloged and filed away for future reference. "I will always be there for you," he replied with a peck to his partner's lips. His hands moved down Sherlock's back slowly, stopping to knead his arse gently. "I am here to pick up the pieces. That is what husbands do." He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock nodded and rolled off John, snuggling into his fiancé's side once more. "Love you. Just want to lay here with you. Watch you sleep, if you manage to again." He smiled and kissed John's forehead.

Oh thank God. John was exhausted and worried he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. And the words that came out of Sherlock's mouth made his heart swell. He couldn't help the smile that took over his lips. "I think I can manage to fall asleep," he whispered, wiggling against Sherlock in excitement. The emotions rushing through him weren't containable and he wanted to jump up and scream, to let everybody know that his partner had said something so honestly domestic. He closed his eyes, finally, and forced his heart to stop racing. Before he knew it, he was snoring softly and the hand on Sherlock's side slid down to the mattress.

Sherlock smiled and kissed John's forehead again. Good, his fiancé was sleeping again. He rested his head on the sleeping man's shoulder, head turned to the side so he could watch the rise and fall of John's chest. His fingers ran through his fiancé's hair lightly. "Sleep my dear doctor. Try not to have any nightmares. We get married soon. I am right here," he whispered quietly. His other hand continued to hold onto John's hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

Every dream that passed through his mind for the next three hours were calm, fuzzy and warm around the edges. For a long time John didn't want to wake up but he felt weight against his left side. Sherlock. He groaned softly and took a sharp intake of breath, his tongue darting out to quickly lick his lips. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched his muscles. Wedding day. "Y'know what I have been wondering?" He asked sleepily.

Sherlock watched as John slept, happy that his fiancé found a peaceful slumber. He wasn't sure how much time went by, by the time the other man awoke and he tilted his head up to look at John when he spoke. "What is that my dear doctor?" He continued to run his fingers through his fiancé's hair soothingly.

"Are you going to walk down the aisle today?" John raised a brow as he glanced down at his fiancé. "Or me? 'Cause...I don't really have parents or anything. And you do. Your Mum, at least. But I am wearing white, you know, and that is typically the one that walks down the aisle." He closed his eyes at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair. "Harry would laugh at me if I had to walk down the aisle."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I guess we will just have to ask my Mum when we get there. I am sure she has it all planned out. Maybe she already told me but sometimes when the wedding talk starts and doesn't end, I stop listening…" He trailed off, realizing that didn't come out exactly how he had intended.

"I should be offended that that you didn't listen to wedding plans." John shifted slightly and then turned so he was facing Sherlock. "But I left you all alone to plan it. Or, well, for your Mum to plan it. I don't blame you." He leaned forward and tugged at the dog tags around his fiancé's neck. "I have got a plan for you tonight," he whispered as he leaned forward and met the other man's lips.

It wasn't that Sherlock didn't care about getting married, but all the plans and the sure to be ostentatious ceremony really wasn't something that mattered. He would have been perfectly fine with a simple wedding. He peered up at John, a smirk tugging at his lips. "A plan? Do I get to be privy to this plan, or do I have to wait all day in suspense?"

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise," John whispered with a mischievous grin. "But I have a feeling you might enjoy it." He ran his hand down Sherlock's stomach, stopping just below his belly button. Christ, they were getting married. By the end of the day John would be in bed with his husband. He grinned and leaned forward to gently meet his fiancé's lips.

The smirk got bigger. "Well, you know me. I always like to try new things," Sherlock returned the kiss, fingers still trailing through John's hair. "Do you want to clean up here or at my Mum's. If we do it here, we can take a shower together." The few times they had showered together had always been nice. Nothing sexual per se, but still enjoyable.

"Oh, here then," John replied eagerly. There was no way he was going to miss showering with his fiancé. "I think showing up clean might make your Mum a bit happier. Especially because you have dark spots under your eyes." He lifted his hand to run his thumb across his partner's cheekbone. "No sex in the shower," he joked softly. "Need to save everything for tonight."

Sherlock shrugged. "Didn't sleep. Wasn't tired." He smirked and turned his head to nip softly at John's thumb. "We should get ready then. Knowing my brother, he will probably drop by early to make sure we aren't...fooling around." He smirked again and then sat up.

At the mention of anybody possibly finding them doing _anything_ made John practically jump out of the bed. "Then up with you." He stripped out of his pajama bottoms and boxers, moving slowly to the bathroom. "Let us get clean before we have to deal with Mycroft." He moved to turn on the water, entering the shower so the spray would avoid his bandages.

Sherlock sat on the bed a moment longer and watched John with a bemused smirk. For a man who was looking forward to having his future mother-in-law hear them in her own house, his fiancé sure was skittish right now. He couldn't help but wonder if John would actually be able to perform. His dear doctor was certainly a mystery to him at times. He finally entered the bathroom and got in the shower with his soon to be husband. He stood so his body would get sprayed on one side, and the side of John's body without bandages would also get water. "Do you want me to help, so you don't have to strain your shoulder?" He reached around, grabbing the shampoo. If his fiance didn't want help, he would just use it on himself.

"That would be good," John whispered with a small smile. Right now he just wanted to be near Sherlock, wanted to be touched by him and take it all in until they were separated. He stood on his toes and gently met his fiancé's lips, pressing his body against his partner's.

"I suggest you two stop that so we can reach Mum's on time." Mycroft opened the door to the bathroom loudly, looking at the shadows behind the shower curtain. "I have Amy. Mrs. Hudson has already left to go help Mum prepare." He shut the door and glanced at Lestrade with a smirk.

Sherlock didn't even look when the door opened. "See? Told you." He smirked slightly and gave John a quick kiss. "Now, behave. Unless you want my brother to come back in and drag us out." Another smirk crossed his lips and he added some shampoo to his hand and began massaging it into his fiancé's scalp.

John couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips, his body relaxing against Sherlock's as the other man washed his hair. That was certainly a wonderful feeling. "Want me to wash your hair, too? It would be a good reason to touch you." He pressed his lips to Sherlock's collarbone with a loud chuckle.

"I will also need your rings!" Mycroft shouted from behind the closed door. "You need to slip them on each other's fingers during the ceremony!"

Sherlock shifted slightly, so the spray of the water would run directly onto John's head. When the suds on the other man's head were gone, he bent over so his head was perpendicular to his fiancé's chest. "Okay, but use your good arm." He handed John the bottle of shampoo, having heard his brother but not bothering to reply.

John laughed and put some shampoo on Sherlock's head, using one hand the best he could to wash all of his fiancé's hair. "Need a haircut," he whispered with a soft smirk, lifting his partner's was to put it under the spray of the warm water. His hand, still covered in suds, ran slowly down Sherlock's chest. The man in front of him was going to be his husband in a few hours and the thought made him grin like a school boy.

"I am sure my Mum will insist on trimming it before the wedding." Married. In a few hours. It was finally happening. Sherlock grabbed conditioner next. "I like when your hair is soft. Feels nice on my fingers," he explained and then added the gooey solution into John's hair.

The feeling of the conditioner made John grimace slightly and he quickly put some conditioner in Sherlock's hair. He reached up with his good hand and worked it into his partner's hair. "Need to get my hair trimmed. It is getting a little long." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips, sucking at his bottom lip. "Don't let her cut it all off. I love your unruly hair," he stated seriously against his fiancé's lips.

"Only if you agree not to get yours cut short too. Like your hair longer versus the military cut. I think I got spoiled by your longer hair at the beginning of our relationship." Sherlock grinned a bit and once the conditioner was rinsed out of their hair, he picked up a bar of soap and lathered up John's body. "You know, we haven't shagged each other in the shower since Scotland. We should fix that on our honeymoon." The grin twitched to a smirk.

The last thing John needed to talk about right now was shagging his fiancé. All morning he had been excited, forcing himself to stay calm. But even at just the _mention_ of it he felt himself getting hard. Sherlock's hands running soap over his body wasn't helping. "We should fix it now," he said helplessly, his hips pressing forward without his consent. The desire and lust running through his body, the excitement about their day and the planned night, were driving him crazy.

"John, no. We don't have time. We can't be late to our own wedding. I would never hear the end of it from my mother or Mycroft." Sherlock gently pushed his fiance away a bit. Before John could change his mind, knowing one kiss would just about do it, he vacated the shower. He grabbed a towel and began drying his hair, hoping his fiance wouldn't be upset with him. They had done enough fighting in the last couple months to last a lifetime.

How was it that simple things from Sherlock always threw John over the edge but the other man could walk out of the shower after he was all over him? He turned the water off and moved out, snatching the towel from his fiancé's hand and running it over his body with a smirk. "You will pay for that," he whispered playfully as he pulled his wedding ring off and set it on the counter. "Give me yours, going to run them out to Mycroft," he stated as he wrapped the towel around his hips.

Sherlock returned the smirk. "Oh really? You know I will probably just like it, right?" The smirk got bigger as he took his necklace with the ring off. He gave the wedding band to his fiance, but kept the dog tags in place. He finished drying off but didn't bother to wrap a towel around his waist like John had.

"I guess if you like it that will just be a plus." John stood on his toes to place a quick peck on Sherlock's lips before taking both of the rings and opening the door to the bathroom. "Get dressed," he said with a small laugh. "You will be nothing but a distraction." He slipped out the door and returned moments later with his cheeks blushed a deep red. "Remind me next time to tie my towel tighter," he muttered as he moved into their bedroom. "Or to just put on clothes."

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. His clothes were in their room and he had no problem walking out naked. "Unless you want to see my stunning young body gentlemen, I suggest you look elsewhere for a few moments." He waited for a moment and then left the bathroom and moved to the bedroom. He put on a fresh set of clothes. "Ready my dear doctor?"

John rushed to get dressed, looking at his fiancé with a wide grin. The next time they would be in the flat they would be husbands. "As ready as I will ever be," he said with a small laugh. His gut twisted and he could feel how hard his heart was beating. "Lets go get married." He walked out of the room and smiled when Mycroft plopped Amy into his arms. "Oh, well good morning!" He lifted the little girl in the air and was rewarded with a small shout. He brought her back to his chest and let his gaze dart between Mycroft and Lestrade. They were both in nice clothing, Mycroft in a tuxedo.

Sherlock followed after John and nodded a hello to Mycroft and Lestrade. He was a little upset with his brother about last night, so he brushed by his sibling without a word. The one time he had actually sought out help, he felt like Mycroft had failed him. Maybe he was just being childish and stubborn, but it didn't change the fact he was upset with his older brother. Today could end up being rather long.

John watched his fiancé curiously before accepting the diaper bag from Lestrade. The two other men went downstairs before he finally spoke up. "What happened between you and Mycroft?" He asked softly as he rocked Amy in his arms. It was obvious and he was good at reading Sherlock now. He reached out and placed a hand gently on his partner's back.

Shit. The last thing Sherlock wanted right now was for John to know what he was talking about with Mycroft last night. He settled for a half truth and hoped it wouldn't come to bite him in the arse later. "We were texting last night. Got in row. You know us, always arguing over something. It will be fine. We'll both pout and be stubborn about it for a little while and then we go back to tolerating each other's existence." He turned toward his fiancé and gave a smirk.

"Typical," John replied as he stood on his toes and placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Put up with him. We are riding in separate cars to your Mum's. This is the last time we get to see each other before the big moment." He opened his mouth to continue but Amy let out a small squeal and tugged at John's shirt. "And then we have the reception. And then I get to rip that tuxedo off of you."

Sherlock smirked. The idea of not being able to see John before the ceremony seemed utterly ridiculous to him, but apparently it was one of those stupid traditional things. "I will see you in a few hours." He kissed his fiancé on the lips quickly and then got in the car waiting for him. Was he going to be stuck with Mycroft or Lestrade? Perhaps both? He hoped neither, but he found that unlikely.


	8. Chapter 8

"Didn't tell him, then?" Mycroft looked up from his mobile with a small smirk, studying his younger brother curiously. "I know you are upset but what else did you want me to say? You deserve each other, no matter how much either of you think otherwise." He set his mobile in his lap and shifted in the seat as the car started to move. It was awkward, certainly, but he _was_ Sherlock's best man. And older brother. "I couldn't let you just walk away. I knew you would regret it."

Sherlock just shook his head. "John and I are fine Mycroft. We ended up talking about it. You think I am upset that you told me I should marry John? Well, that isn't it. Not even close." He shrugged and looked away from his older brother, opting to stare out the window as the scenery scrolled by. "It doesn't matter anymore, so just forget about it."

"You ended up talking about it? You told him that last night, while he was curled up against you, that you were considering not marrying him?" Mycroft shook his head fractionally and smirked. "Doubtful. Are you going to tell my why you are actually upset, Sherlock? I am your best man, it would be a tad nice to know why one of the grooms is so upset on such an eventful day." The car pulled to a stop in front of the manor and he kept his gaze locked on his younger brother. "Lestrade is taking John and Amy in now. Mum will have your daughter through the ceremony. She has also asked if you will be wearing John's dog tags."

"Look, John and I have gone back and forth on this whole we 'aren't good enough for each other' thing. He doesn't think he is good enough for me and I certainly don't deserve him, but we still make each other happy. Somehow…and I guess that is enough? I don't really know Mycroft." Sherlock continued to stare out the window as he spoke. "And yes, of course I am going to wear them. John wanted Harry to hold little Sandi. Unless she isn't going to make it?" If that woman had fallen off the wagon before one of John's most important life events, he just might do something drastic. Hopefully his fiancé's sister wouldn't be a disappointment like Mycroft turned out to be. Agitated, he finally got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Mycroft opened his mouth to reply but sighed as Sherlock got out of the car. He got out himself, looking at his younger brother over the roof of the vehicle. "Harry is. Right now Mum has her so Lestrade and Stamford can help John get into his tuxedo. Bit difficult with a bum shoulder," he muttered as he walked around the back of the car and toward the front door of the manor. "The wedding starts in an hour. It would be best to get you in your tuxedo." He entered the manor with a tight smile, taking a sharp right. The plan was to keep the two on opposite ends of the house before the ceremony so everybody knew for sure that they wouldn't see each other.

Sherlock followed his older brother into the mansion. "So, what is the point of this whole separate thing until the ceremony. A tradition, obviously…but why?" He didn't really care about the answer but talking about something was better than not talking at all he supposed.

"There is my baby boy. Are you nervous? Excited? I am a bit both!" Nancy exclaimed, beaming like the proud mother she was.

"Yes, a bit of both as well. I need to get my ridiculous tux on, Mum."

"Oh hush! You will look very handsome young man. Mycroft will show you where to get changed." Nancy looked to her eldest son. "Make sure he wears the tie."

"Yes, Mum." Mycroft smiled tightly and led his younger brother to an empty room, the tuxedo hanging on the back of the door. "It is supposed to be twenty-four hours, really, but it is to make the entire thing special. It's just about as silly as shagging on the wedding night," he said softly, turning on his heels as the door opened. Lestrade walked in with a smile.

"John is all set. Listened to your Mum, Mycroft. He has all of his military badges and awards on." Greg glanced at Sherlock and furrowed his brows. "Why aren't you dressed, then?"

"Gregory, hush." Mycroft motioned for his partner to leave as he turned back to his younger brother. "We have decided you will be walking doing with aisle with Mum. Only fitting since John was the one who proposed and because you still have a living parent."

Sherlock followed after Mycroft quietly and finally started getting dressed after _Gregory_ left. It was weird enough as thinking of the Detective Inspector as Greg but Gregory? It almost made him laugh. "Well, John and I pretty much shag every night. So, it will be nothing different except we'll be married. Hope the tux isn't a rental. John seems intent on 'ripping it off' as he put it." He gave a faint smirk as he buttoned the coat in place. "Whatever makes Mum happy. God to honest, I don't care about this ceremony. I offered to elope with John in Las Vegas, but I think he thought I was only joking…" He shrugged and growled as he fought with the tie.

While it was common knowledge that the two men did, in fact, shag like rabbits, it was information Mycroft didn't really want to hear. "Right. Of course you do. Don't announce that at the ceremony tonight, please." He moved forward and batted his younger brother's hands away, moving to tug at the tie. "Mum bought both of the tuxedos. She seems to think you will want to keep them for sentimental reasons." Once he finished with the tie he moved so Sherlock could see his reflection in his mirror. "You two will be staying on the third floor, end of the wall to the east. Biggest guest room, king size bed." A small smirk tugged at his lips. "Just keep quiet."

Sherlock eyed his reflection. "I look stupid," he muttered, already uncomfortable in the clothing. "Sentimental…? She does realize who I am, right? Sometimes I think Mum has disillusions about me… As far as keeping it quiet, John also seems quite intent on making sure everyone hears. He wants to see if Mum will interrupt like she did to you when you brought that girl home. The only time you ever did that." He smirked and shrugged. "I told John, she probably would but I don't think he believes me. So, he wants to test the theory I guess. Frankly, I am surprised given his usual shyness." He shrugged again. "Where is the wedding anyway? I am sure you have told me before but I probably wasn't listening."

"It is in the backyard. Big enough and it looks wonderful." Mycroft studied his brother's form in the mirror, eyes narrowing as he blushed. "Erica was a very lovely girl and I told her to- Never mind." He straightened his worn tie and cleared his throat. "After Afghanistan he needs some sort of adrenaline rush in his life. Do you really think she will walk in on you two?" He eyed Sherlock with a slight smirk. Despite the situation, it would be hilarious. Even just the thought of their Mum walking in on John and Sherlock's wedding night made him laugh.

"I say about sixty-forty chance. I guess I will be more surprised if it _doesn't_ happen." Sherlock drummed his fingers along his leg, to prevent them from taking off the tie that he felt like was suffocating the life out of him. "I know you think we should have waited to get married, but I did consider your advice. We are going to take the honeymoon later, after John is completely healed, so we can have a _proper_ one." He smirked before going on. "Usually, you try and cram advice down my throat, and last night…you didn't…the one time I actually cared about what you thought and…" He shrugged, fingers now fidgeting with the cufflinks.

Oh. _That_ is what had upset Sherlock. Mycroft dropped his head for a moment, studying his feet intently. "I didn't know what to say. I am not exactly an expert at marriage and I'm going to be entering my own soon." He lifted his hands to tug at his own cufflinks. "I knew you were nervous and that before weddings most people experience that." His gaze lifted to Sherlock's in the mirror. "I don't know what you wanted to me to say, exactly. I tried to calm you down the best I could over a text message." What did one say to a text like that in the middle of the night? It wasn't like he could make an informed and educated decision. "You two fight a bit. Just because John wants something ordinary that you can't give him doesn't mean you need to rethink your entire future with him. He will figure it out. So will you."

"Well, I ended up just thinking and John woke up. And after thinking for awhile, I realized why I am marrying John. So, I figured it out on my own and told John. Well, sort of. I thanked him really. Anyway, shouldn't it be wedding bells soon? The sooner I can get the hell out of this tuxedo, the better." Sherlock itched at his wrists beneath the tuxedo, unsure if it was because he was feeling uncomfortable or because the clothing was insufferable. "It is fine...we are...fine..."

"Sherlock, you two really are perfect for each other." Mycroft met his brother's gaze and gave him a warm smile."Let us go marry you off to the perfect man." He opened the door to the room slowly. "You are going to feel nervous. Your heartbeat will be faster than anything you have ever experienced." He placed a hand protectively on his younger brother's shoulder. "But when you see John standing there at the end you will know that it will all be worth, that it all has been." He pulled his brother into a quick hug, pulling away and clearing his throat. "Mum will be waiting for you at the back doors. She will walk you out there. See you soon." With that Mycroft left, moving toward the backyard to take his spot.

Sherlock merely nodded at his older brother's pep talk. He stayed in place a little while, still resisting the urge to tear off the damn tie. Eventually he met his mother by the back door.

Nancy smiled and linked their arms together, patting her youngest son's hand in reassurance. "I am proud of you my dear. You look handsome. My handsome baby boy is growing up too fast on me."

" _Mum!_ " Sherlock whispered but then smiled as they began walking down the aisle. Everyone was staring at him. He ignored the crowd and looked forward, keeping his gaze fixed on John.

Oh God. This was happening. There Sherlock was, walking toward him, smiling. Was he smiling? John felt like he was going to pass out and he suddenly remembered to breathe, gasping for air. He felt the priest's hand on his back and he steadied almost instantly. This was their wedding. He bit his bottom lip and turned to face the priest as Sherlock came to his side. His husband in a few minutes. The words went by in a blur and before he knew it Sherlock's left hand was resting in his own and he was slipping the silver ring on to his partner's finger, repeating words as his hands shook. He slowly lifted his left hand as the priest instructed and, for the first time during the ceremony, lifted his gaze to meet Sherlock's.

Sherlock tried to concentrate on the priest and the words, but the ceremony was taking _so_ long. He managed not to twitch and fidget at the altar. He smiled again when John looked at him and gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance when it was his turn to put the ring on his partner's finger as he repeated whatever ridiculous words were expected of him. Did that mean this was almost over?

The familiar weight of the ring on his left hand calmed him slightly as he turned back to the priest. John barely heard the man in front of them say 'John Hamish Watson' and when he recognized the pause he turned to Sherlock, took a deep breath, and smiled. "I do," he said a bit quicker than he intended, a small blush spreading over his cheeks.

Sherlock went back to half listening but when he heard John speak he became more alert. His turn. "I do," he said without any hesitation. Was this where they kiss? He probably should have been paying more attention during the wedding plans or the very least done some sort of research on it.

John's chest was tight as the priest continued to speak, everything around them was a blur until he heard another pause. Kiss. It was time to kiss. He wrapped his left arm around Sherlock's neck and stood on his toes, hesitating slightly before meeting his husband's lips. Married. Sherlock Holmes was his _husband_.

Sherlock returned the kiss without hesitation. Married. He was actually married now. It was a strange thought but it made him happy. John made him happy. Happiness is all that really mattered, right? Okay, the kiss was over. Now what? Right now he kind of wished there had been time for a rehearsal, because he absolutely no idea what was expected next. Was there a certain order to leave? Did they go first? Last? He decided he would just wait and see what his husband would do and then follow suit.

"C'mon." John turned and grabbed Sherlock's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he led his husband down the aisle. People stood and cheered, people he had never seen before. Mrs. Hudson was smiling and Harry was grinning and cheering, much to the dismay to little Amy. He had talked with Mycroft and Lestrade before the entire ceremony and knew exactly where to go. "We are going to your Mum's ballroom, because she has one, and that is where the reception is." He turned to look at his partner as the crowd quieted the farther away they got. "I love you."

"Yes, it is where I took my dancing lessons." Sherlock walked hand in hand with John. They walked into the ballroom and was greeted by dim lighting, tables of finger food and deserts, a full sized bar, empty tables, an extra long table for the wedding party. "Let's sit. The servants will bring us the main course."

Nobody was in the room yet and Sherlock just wanted to sit? John looked up at his husband with a small shake of his head. That wasn't going to happen. He stood on his toes, his left hand moving to yank at Sherlock's neck so he could meet his lips. It was frantic and exited but he couldn't help himself. The emotions rushing through his body were difficult to contain.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk and returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around John in a hug. "They won't be far behind, but we can continue this and get caught if you want." The smirk returned and he nipped at his husband's bottom lip.

Bloody ceremony. John wanted to take Sherlock to the room and shag him senseless. He moved in for a second kiss but stopped when he heard the voices getting louder. "Later," he whispered with a lopsided smile. He glanced at the head table for a quick moment. Seats at the center for the two of them, one for Mycroft and one for Sherlock's Mum. "C'mon." He pulled slowly out of Sherlock's embrace and toward the table, taking his seat. "I will even sit next to Mycroft for you," he said with a laugh as the older Holmes brother took his seat next to John.

Sherlock sat down at the table and it didn't take long for a servant to come and take their order. He ordered in the man's native tongue, Mandarin. The older man smiled and then had a brief exchange. After the servant left he turned to John. "That is Charlie, well not really his name but it was what dad called him because he could never pronounce it right. Anyway, he has been with the family a long time. Before I was born. He is the only one I really got on well with and the only servant I didn't try to get fired or successfully have fired. No surprise Mum picked him for here. He said if you left me, he would put an ancient Oriental curse on you so you had better watch yourself." He smirked a bit and shrugged. "Welcome to the family John. Your life is probably about to get a hell of a lot more complicated. The Holmes...are...strange to most..."

"Sherlock! Don't talk about your family like that. You may be grown and married now, but you are still my baby boy and I _will_ tweak your ear like a child if need be." Nancy admonished lightly.

Right. Of course she would. "Any chance you want to switch seats?" Sherlock whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his husband.

John listened intently, his eyes going wide as Sherlock continued to speak. Curse? His gaze shot to the man walking away before instantly moving back to his husband. Sherlock had never really mention how, exactly, he had grown up. John knew that it was different but hearing him talk about servants and actually _seeing_ the manor made him green with envy. By fifteen he was working to support his Mum and Harry, who already had a drinking problem at that time. "I love it," he whispered softly. "It is wonderful, really." He smirked softly at Nancy's words and ignored Sherlock's statement, moving his left hand to rest on his husband's thigh. "I put myself on your right side for a reason, _dear_ ," he said with a bit of a smirk, his hand moving so his fingers could draw light shapes on the inside of Sherlock's upper thigh.

Sherlock couldn't help but squirm a bit at John's touch. He smirked a little. Two could play this game. "Mum, tell John to keep his hands to himself."

Nancy sighed. "No one likes a tattle tale, Sherlock. If you two insist on misbehaving I _will_ make you sleep in separate rooms tonight. Now, start acting like adults."

That little... "You bastard," John said out of the corner of his mouth with a chuckle. His hand slid away slowly and he made sure his fingernails scratched through the fabric of his husband's trousers. The idea of sleeping in separate rooms was mortifying and that was enough incentive for John to behave. Well, behave more than he had been. As the food was set down in front of them he shifted and moved his foot, hooking it around Sherlock's ankle and giving a small tug. He couldn't keep to himself now. He wanted to constantly be touching Sherlock because if he couldn't shag him just yet then any sort of contact would have to do.

"Sherlock, please behave," Mycroft stated as he kept his eyes locked forward, clearly searching for Lestrade in the crowd. "You will draw more attention than is necessary for such a _lovely_ event."

Sherlock was about to retaliate when he heard Mycroft speak. "Me? I'm not the one doing anything!" He whispered angrily. He sighed and fought the urge to just _leave_. Now he remembered why he skipped out on spending holidays at the mansion. Something like this _always_ happened and he usually ended up the one in trouble.

John tensed instantly and turned to place a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Shhh, calm down. Wedding. Be happy." He shifted so he could place a soft kiss on his husband's lips. As he pulled away his hand went back to rest on Sherlock's thigh, this time the touch was soothing. "Mycroft, it was me. Don't blame everything on Sherlock." He glanced at his brother-in-law.

"Fine then, Captain Watson. Please, do keep your hands to yourself until _after_ the reception?" Mycroft asked coldly.

"I've got to touch him during our dance, Mycroft," John shot back with a proud grin, sitting up a little straighter when it was obvious that the other man had lost the little argument. He cleared his throat and used his right hand to take a small bite of food. "Managed to sneak some icing from the kitchen when we arrived," he whispered out of the side of his mouth, keeping his gaze on his plate. "Going to need to lick it off you later."

Sherlock was a stone's throw away from leaving in a childish fit. He took a deep breath and took the first bite of food.

"Mycroft. Mind your business. The boys are just excited. Or at least Captain Watson is." Nancy looked to her son-in-law with a knowing smile.

This made Sherlock smirk and he relaxed finally. "You have definitely got him pegged Mummy."

"Oh hush. You are no better. Don't think I don't know. A mother knows these kinds things, you know. Why do you think you have an entire wing to the mansion to yourselves tonight?"

John blushed, keeping his eyes trained expertly on his plate as he squeezed Sherlock's thigh. Did embarrassing him run in the Holmes family? He shifted in his chair slightly, his military awards clinking against each other. "Sherlock, I don't think I can dance in front of everybody," he whispered as his wide eyes locked on the empty area surrounded by tables and people. The petty argument and banter surrounding them was suddenly forgotten in favor of his twisting stomach and nervously shuffling feet.

"Yes you can my dear doctor. Just like I showed you at the flat. Count to three and move with me." Sherlock leaned over and whispered in his husband's ear. "If you do it right, I will find some extra sheets and you can tie me up. Have _complete_ control." As he leaned away, he smirked down at John.

John tensed instantly at Sherlock's words, swallowing hard at the thought. If that was meant to help him focus it had failed. All he could think about now was his husband beneath him, tied to a bed, and covered in the icing he had nicked from the kitchen. Not good. "Thanks for giving me a raging hard-on," he said with a small chuckle. "I can't dance like this."

Sherlock smirked. "I was trying to help motivate you, guess it didn't work the way I wanted it to." He shrugged and managed to eat half the food on his plate, as he hadn't been that hungry to begin with but it was expected of him so he had done it anyway. It was better than listening to his mother tell him he was too skinny and needed to eat more.

John lowered his head and tried to calm himself down. He could feel his heartbeat through his rib cage and wasn't that hungry. He gently shoved his plate away after taking only three bites. The food had been delicious but the dance and the overall distraction of his husband was a bit too much. "If it makes you happier I think that tux makes you look amazing." The hand on Sherlock's thigh traveled a bit higher.

Sherlock glanced down at his tuxedo. "I hate it," he muttered. "It is extremely uncomfortable." Shit. John was persistent today. It wasn't that he had a problem with it, he was just tired of hearing his mother and brother telling him to behave like he was some small child. He leaned over and whispered in his husband's ear once more. "Keep that up and I will make out with you in front of everyone after we are done dancing." He couldn't resist John forever and he knew it.

John smirked and turned his head, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. "Do it," he whispered with a wry grin. "Make me weak to my knees in front of everybody."

"Captain Watson, please!" Mycroft snapped under his breath, as he eyed them with a frown.

John smirked and nipped at his husbands bottom lip before turning to face forward in his chair, his hand sliding up to cup Sherlock through his trousers.

Sherlock was about to reply but instead squirmed into John's touch. The moment was short lived when he felt his chair yanked away roughly. He glanced over to his mother, who was glaring daggers at them both.

"Such ungrateful boys you are! I asked you nicely to behave. But you insist on being disrespectful to your host in her own house. The person paying for this _and_ honeymoon. Fine! Be heathens, but I won't stay here and put up with it. When you are done acting like foolish teenagers, _leave!_ " Nancy was clearly upset and she left the ballroom in a hurried flourish.

"Mum…wait!" Sherlock sighed and slumped into the chair. The whole room was quiet and staring at the wedding party's table. It just wouldn't be a family gathering if there wasn't a big fight. Just like when he was a kid. It was why he had avoided coming back to the mansion whenever he could. He was certain he was going to get shit from Mycroft next. He glanced over to John. "You should go find her and apologize. The longer you wait to do it, the longer she will be mad at you. Mother tends to hold grudges. Quite like father in that respects."

John tensed and watched everything unfold, the color draining from his face. No. Shit. That _wasn't_ supposed to happen. He stood slowly, morphing instantly into his military posture. It was the only way he was going to be able to do this. He walked stiffly through the tables, keeping his eyes locked forward and ignoring the gazes of everybody else. The moment he was in the hallway he looked for Nancy, the fingers on his left hand clenching and unclenching multiple times. "Mrs. Holmes?" He asked softly as he found her, approaching her slowly.

Nancy wasn't one to lose it like that usually. It had all just piled up on her. First she lost her husband and then she was sick with worry and grief over her youngest son being missing for three days. She hadn't let herself cry the entire time. She needed to be strong for her boys. Now here she was, unable to stop the tears and not wanting to. She heard John's voice. She sniffled but didn't turn to face him. "Nancy," she corrected softly. "I am sorry for ruining your wedding day. It has been a rough month," she tried to explain, sniffling once more.

Rough month. John felt his stomach twist and he forced himself to not throw up. Her rough month was _his_ fault. Siger dying to rescue him. Sherlock going missing because he visited John in the hospital. He tensed. "Nancy, it is alright." He heard the tell-tale signs of crying and didn't hesitate to move in front of his mother-in-law and embrace her. "I am sorry for disrespecting you. I didn't listen and that upset you." He turned his head to place a soothing kiss on her temple. "I am so sorry."

Nancy returned the hug, needing the comfort being offered. "You are a good boy John," she said through more sniffling. "This is the first time I have cried since Siger's passing. I had to be strong for the children. And then Sherlock went missing..." She trailed off in broken sobs. After a moment of a hard cry she cleared her throat, released her son-in-law and stood up straight, dignified. "There we go. All better. Just needed a good cry is all. We should get back. You boys still have to dance."

John smiled warmly at the woman in front of him, only faltering slightly at the mention of the dance. "Yes. Quite." He swallowed hard and nervously kneaded his hands. Dance. "Would you like me to escort you, then?" He offered his arm to her. "You are the best Mum-in-Law a man could ask for."

"Yes, please." Nancy hooked her arm in his, patting his hand lightly. "I think you might be my favorite son. My other two boys are just as stubborn as their father. They sent you, instead of coming themselves. Shame on them." She smiled and began walking with him back to the ballroom.

"Nancy, it wasn't either of them who upset you," John stated with a small shrug. "I can't keep my hands off of your youngest son and you politely asked me to do so. I should have listened." He smiled as they entered the ballroom, looking up at his husband as he walked through the tables with Nancy. "I promise you a dance tonight." He placed another kiss on her temple. "And I will try not to step on your feet."


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock looked up at John and his mother. They both seemed to be fine. Good. He smiled up at them.

Nancy smiled back and let go of John's hand. "Your dance is soon boys." She walked over to the table with the DJ and spoke quietly with him.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows to his husband after his mother left. "She okay? Looks like she's been crying. I haven't seen her cry since I was young..."

John watched Nancy as she walked away before nodding in response to Sherlock's question. "She is fine. Cried a bit but...we talked." He smiled as he looked up at his husband. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get you in trouble." He gently met Sherlock's lips. While he had just planned on playing around with Sherlock he certainly hadn't thought that his mother-in-law would react like that. "I will try to control myself."

"John, I am in trouble with my Mum all the time. It is nothing new." Sherlock smirked and then shrugged. He knew his mother well enough that what had happened in the ballroom wasn't why she had been crying, and found it curious that she had talked to his husband about it. Well, he supposed that was good though, right? It meant things wouldn't be awkward the rest of the night, hopefully. "You had better behave. Make Mummy cry like that again, and Mycroft might hit you." He motioned his head to his older brother who was talking to Lestrade in a corner. The smirk returned.

"I know your brother is the British government and all." John moved a hand around his husband to rest on his lower back. "But I think I could hit back just a tad harder." A mischievous grin and then he glanced at the two men in the corner. "Looks like we might have another wedding to attend in the future. Lestrade told me that they are engaged. Your Mum's got four boys to deal with, think she can do it?" He looked up at Sherlock with a small smile, not being able to help himself as he placed a soft kiss on the underside of his husband's jaw.

"Yes, I figured as much when we got home. Mycroft confirmed it today. And my Mum was married to Siger, so I am pretty sure she can handle anything if she could put up being married to that man." Sherlock looked over to his mother when she began speaking into a microphone.

"The happy couple will now share their first dance. It is a song written and performed by Sherlock. It's called 'Lyubit'."

"It's Russian for 'love.' Come on. Time to show everyone how good of a dance teacher I am." Sherlock got up from his chair and offered his hand to John. Once his husband's grasp was in his, he kissed the top of the hand in a very formal and traditional fashion before leading his partner to the dance floor.

John followed Sherlock, tripping slightly over his feet as he did. "Oh, wonderful," he muttered, stopping in front of his husband and swallowing hard. "You should have told me about the name earlier. Would've shagged you for that, too," he spoke in a low tone, looking down at their feet as he placed his left hand on Sherlock's right shoulder. "I love you," he whispered as he took his partner's other hand, lifting it marginally and stopping as his shoulder protested to any further extension. He met Sherlock's gaze and started to move his feet shakily as the music started.

Sherlock smirked a bit and when the music started, he counted softly for John hoping it would help his husband keep in time with the music. He led them around on the dance floor, doing small circles, instead of large ones to make it easier on his partner. He kept his gaze on John while the danced, counting the rhythm out the entire duration of the song.

The sound of Sherlock's voice, hearing him count, made John relax almost instantly. He felt his feet move across the floor with a smoothness he hadn't even possessed in the flat. For a moment he forgot they were surrounded by people, forgot that they were at their wedding, and his entire world was his husband. "I love you," he repeated, fractionally losing a beat but instantly catching himself.

Sherlock beamed proudly, but kept up the count. They continued to move around the dance floor in fluid sweeps. After a few minutes the song ended and he leaned in close and kissed John on the lips. "I love you too. You did very well, by the way. Much better than you ever did at the flat. Told I was a good teacher." He smirked and walked them back over to their table.

John followed after his husband with a proud grin on his face, beaming from ear to ear. "Best teacher in all of London," he said as he sat down. What else was there to do? They had danced, they'd said 'I Do' and, honestly, he was tired of sitting here. He wanted to ravish his husband. "Do I get to tie you up, then? Watch you squirm?" He smirked as the large cake was wheeled in and placed slightly to the side of their seats.

"I don't know. Probably a bunch of songs after this that is appropriate for a wedding? And cutting the cake apparently. As far as tonight goes, you will just have to wait and find out what we are doing." Sherlock smirked again. A song he wasn't familiar with started playing and he tuned it and the background noise out.

Bloody Hell, this was taking longer than he thought. "How upset would you be if I shoved my slice of cake right into your face?" John laced his fingers with his husband's and squeezed. "No running off into that mind of yours. Not allowed. I want you here." His gaze traveled to Mycroft and Lestrade as they took the dance floor and he couldn't help but chuckle as Harry danced with Amy in her arms. He kept his eyes locked on his daughter and sister, a soft smile on his lips.

Sherlock broke out into grin. "I was actually thinking about doing the same to you my dear doctor. I honestly wouldn't care. Maybe I will leave it there for you to lick off later."

Nancy walked over. "Do you want a slice of cake saved and frozen for a year? It is tradition and supposed to be good luck."

"Uh…" Sherlock glanced up to John with raised eyebrows.

John laughed but it faltered and he momentarily forgot what Nancy had asked. It wasn't until he caught his husband's questioning gaze that he realized there was more to life than imagining licking cake off of Sherlock's body. "Yes, please." He looked at his mother-in-law and smiled warmly.

"Alright, gentlemen." Mycroft walked over, handed John a large knife and motioned his head toward the cake. "Go on and cut it, then. After that we will make sure you both have a slice to feed each other."

"Right. Of course." John looked at his husband and wrapped his fingers around the knife, holding his hand out for Sherlock to grab. "Cut the cake with me, husband?"

Sherlock took John's hand and followed his husband over to the table with the cake. "Are we really going to shove it in each other's mouths?" He asked as they cut through the moist desert. A bunch of cameras and flashes went off. Another slice was cut and he picked it up. Marble cake with white frosting. "Ready my dear doctor?"

John grabbed a piece and steadied himself, looking up at his husband with a wide grin. "I will never miss a chance to shove food in your mouth," he said as he moved the cake slowly toward Sherlock's mouth. It was stereotypical and silly to shove cake at each other but he couldn't pass it up. His hand rushed forward and smashed the slice of cake against Sherlock's mouth as he broke into laughter, more flashes and clicks going off as people around them took pictures.

Sherlock was about to return the favor when a more devious idea popped into his head. He fed the cake to John gently. "See, this is why I am the gentlemen and in a black tuxedo." He smirked, not bothering to wipe his face off. He leaned in to whisper into his husband's ear. "I was serious about having you lick it off."

Laughter burst out among the crowd as John took a small bite of the cake. After listening to his husband speak he stood on his toes and met Sherlock's lips, his tongue running along his lips to lick up as much frosting as he could while still making it look like a kiss. Several more flashes went off around them as John pulled away, grinning when he realized frosting had rubbed on to his face as well. "I have got my own stash of frosting for that," he whispered proudly, lifting a finger to run down Sherlock's cheek. Once his finger tip was covered in cake and frosting he placed it against his husband's lips.

Sherlock smirked a bit and licked the frosting. People were cheering and clapping now. Good Lord, people got excited about the strangest things. He walked hand in hand with husband back to their table. He bent over to whisper in John's ear once more. "When I said I wanted you to lick the icing off, I meant right now. Maybe find a bathroom somewhere. A supply closet. A secret passage. I know every inch of this mansion, I am sure we could find a place for a little awhile. Although Mycroft and probably Mum will figure it out."

To Hell with propriety. If Sherlock knew an area where they could have a few moments to themselves then John was all for it. "Where?" He whispered urgently, squeezing his husband's hand in excitement. Even if Nancy and Mycroft knew he wanted to go. They would have to respect the fact that they didn't do it in front if everybody. "Show me. Let's go."

Sherlock smirked a bit more. "Easy there. We should be smart about this. Through the double doors we came through, take a left, down the hall after four doors is a bathroom. Wait for me there. Then we will find a quieter place. I'll knock on the door three times." John had, had his hands all over him since the morning. Who was he to deny the amorous advances of his husband?

John grinned at Sherlock and nodded. Perfect. He stood slowly and moved through the group of people, even managing to give Harry a quick hug and place a small kiss on Amy's forehead. As he went out the double doors he glanced back at his husband, going still for a long moment before finally leaving. He felt himself walk quicker than usual. All he could hear was he blood rushing behind his ears as he pushed open the door to a bathroom. "Christ." He looked around as he slowly shut the door. This bathroom was bigger than the bedroom he had growing up.

Sherlock waited for a few minutes. He looked over to Mycroft and stood up from his chair. "I think John got lost, I'm going to go and find him." He left before his older brother could argue. He glanced up and down the hall before knocking on the door three times. When it opened, he tilted his head. "Come on. This way." He took his husband's hand gently and led him further down the hallaway from the ballroom. They entered a small library, well small in comparison to the extensive one in his father's den. He picked up a walking stick inside the door and walked over to the unlit fireplace. He lifted the carpet, inserted the cane into the floor and gave it a twist. The fireplace spun sideways allowing access to the passage beyond. He smoothed the carpet back in place and walked through, pressing the button on the other side so it would close. It was dark for a few seconds but when they started walking again, the hall lit up, lights flickering to life in sequence all the way down. "Almost there."

Mycroft watched Sherlock leave with a raised brow and a knowing smirk, casting a glance over at their Mum.

John followed, mouth ajar at everything he was seeing. This wasn't just a manor, it was something out of a bloody mystery novel. "Sherlock, what the Hell?" He asked with a small laugh, squeezing his husband's hand in disbelief. This was most certainly real. "I am fairly sure we could have stopped after the damn rotating fireplace. I don't think anybody is going to find us."

"The place was built by my great grandfather. So, it has been in the family for a few generations. The secret passages were built with it. The mansion of course has been updated for modern times, along with all its secret places. Most people don't know about them, but Dad did. I followed him once when I was young and became fascinated. I spent a year and a half finding out where every passage was and explored them thoroughly. I am taking you to my favorite spot. Kind of like a second bedroom for me, where I could be _me_ and not worry about the maids cleaning my room every single day," Sherlock explained as they came to the end of the passage, after passing a few other passages that branched off. There was no door, just an archway. He placed the cane against the wall and flicked on a lamp. It wasn't a very big room, but it'd be enough space. A few book shelves lined the wall, containing old books and now empty jars. A rug laid on the floor, Persian. There were several pillows and bean bags all over the rug. "Thought this would be more comfortable than a hardwood floor. Wanted to show it off, shag you in my favorite room in the mansion. I have never brought anyone here before…so I thought I would bring you, prove to you I love you…"He trailed off, as he realized John's words from last night still haunted him. Would this be enough? Maybe it wasn't 'googly eyes' but it was some sort of sentiment…wasn't it?

Oh. Good Lord, if Sherlock could be described as romantic this would be the best example he could give. John faltered slightly on his feet, taking a deep breath and grinning. "Sherlock." He glanced up at his husband before standing on his toes and gently meeting Sherlock's lips. He licked at any frosting he could get as he pressed his entire body against his partner.

Sherlock smiled, apparently he had pleased John. He bumped into a book shelf but didn't care, his body already squirming into his husband excitedly. His tongue poked out to tangle with the other man's. "Can't tear the tuxedo yet, I think we still have to put up with a lot of photos being taken." His fingers were already trying to undo his trousers, he had been containing himself up until now and he was extremely aroused and ready to get things going.

"What do you want?" John asked breathlessly, pushing Sherlock's hands away so he could undo his trousers. His hands moved effortlessly and the moment he had his husband's troursers undone he yanked them down to his thighs, palming Sherlock through his underwear. Right now he was willing to do anything for Sherlock. The man had exposed such a personal part of himself for John and he deserved anything that he wanted.

Sherlock let John undo his trousers, whimpering with desire as soon as he felt his husband's hand touching him through the underwear. "Want to be inside of you...but in my haste I didn't think to grab anything..." He trailed off and then arched a brow. "Did you happen to nick anything from the bathroom while you were there by chance?"

"As embarrassing as this is." John reached into his pocket and pulled a package out, shoving it into Sherlock's hand. "Wedding present from Harry." He glanced down at the package of lube with a small blush. "It will do for this go-round. We have an entire bottle upstairs." He leaned back and reached between them, hastily undoing his trousers. "How? Sherlock, you might have to take me from behind. Don't have time to take my shoes off." He looked up at his husband with a small grin. "Fast or slow?"

At this point Sherlock didn't care how slow or fast things were. He just wanted John, _now_. His body continued to writhe against his husband. One hand held onto the package of lube, while the other sought frantically to help take off his partner's trousers.

John locked his gaze on Sherlock's face before happily accepting the help. His trousers finally came undone and he took a gasping breath, wiggling so they fell down his thighs. He figured they were breaking the typical wedding rules by shagging in some secret room while the reception was still going on but he didn't care anymore. "C'mere." He pulled a napkin from his pocket and cleaned Sherlock's face the best he could. "Don't want it to get on our tuxedos," he whispered as he dropped the napkin in favor of meeting his husband's lips.

Sherlock returned the kiss eagerly, tongue moving into John's mouth immediately. His hand tugged at his husband's boxers next. He moved them toward the center of the room, so they could lay down on the pillows and bean bags in comfort and not squished against the bookcase.

John moved back obediently, gasping into Sherlock's mouth as he fell back and pulled his husband with him. Pain shot through his shoulder but he ignored it. Sherlock was on top of him, they were going to make love. That was the most important thing in his mind right now. He arched his hips off the soft pillows and bean bags beneath him and moaned softly when his boxers slid down to his thighs. "Talk to me, Sherlock," he said as he panted for breath. "Need to know how we're going to do th- Oh, God." He arched up into his husband with a small moan, yanking desperately at Sherlock's underwear.

Sherlock fell with John, with a slight grunt. That had been a little rough on his chest but that didn't matter at this point. He moaned softly feeling his husband buck into him and he helped John remove his underwear. "Will you be fine on the floor? Once the lube is in place, I'll enter. God John, I want you so bad. Haven't been inside of you in so long..." He leaned forward and began kissing his husband's jaw line.

"Yeah. Fine. I will be fine." John lifted his left hand to scratch at Sherlock's back through the layers of clothing, swallowing hard. "J-Just let me roll over, yeah? Easiest way to do this." Although it might be a tad painful for him. It would be worth it, though. It would always be worth it. He pushed gently at Sherlock's chest and managed to roll on to his stomach, supporting himself on his knees and his left arm. It was a bit more exposing than he was used to but he bit his bottom lip and glanced at his husband over his shoulder. He spread his legs as far as he could, wiggling slightly so his pants and boxers would slide down to his ankles. "I'll prop up on my knees when we are going," he whispered. "You will just have to hold me up, okay?"

Just yesterday Sherlock had thought they should wait to try this position until John was fully healed and they were on their honeymoon, but now he was intoxicated with desire and need. He rarely thought clearly in these instances. He took a few moments to get his husband ready, the lube being smoother than the Vaseline they usually used. He used up the last of the small package on himself, and discarded the empty packet somewhere next to him. Something new and he was the one giving it, always exciting for him. He leaned forward, arms reaching around to help support John. He thrust in slowly at first, letting out a long moan of pleasure.

That was it. John didn't know what to think as he instinctively pressed back against Sherlock. "Oh, God." He bit his bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath, readjusting himself to the feeling of being stretched around Sherlock. He moved and tensed his body, coming to rest entirely on his knees as he pressed his back against his husband's chest. He reached for Sherlock's hand and placed it on his stomach, scratching at it as he let out a soft moan. "Jesus, Sherlock." He let his head fall back on to Sherlock's shoulder, pressing into his husband with another moan.

Sherlock smirked, pleased with himself. John seemed to be enjoying this. Frankly so was he. It gave him an all new reign of control. Or maybe having given it up the last couple times had made him realize just how much he liked and missed it. Either way, this new position was something they would have to do again at some point. He began to thrust faster, in his heightened sense of ecstasy. "'sgood idea John…" He managed to breathe out, his breath already becoming irregular. It was a bit of hard work on his end, doing it this way but well worth it.

Every thrust from Sherlock made John moan and after awhile he could do nothing more than repeat Sherlock's name in a soft whisper, breathing hard. He moved to meet every thrust, coming back to press his stomach into the anchor that was his husband's hand, holding him up and keeping him close. He turned his head and started to suck and lick at Sherlock's neck, his right hand moving to scratch at the outside of Sherlock's thigh. "Fuck, yes. So good, Sherlo-" He moaned loudly and dug his nails into Sherlock's thigh.

The thrusts, John licking and scratching him was driving him mad but in the best way possible. Sherlock tilted his head slightly, so his husband could have better access at his neck. "John this is…" He trailed off, trying to focus on getting air to his lungs. He continued to increase the speed and pressure, his arms tightening the grip around John slightly so as to keep the other man in place with the increasing pace.

John wanted to talk, wanted to tell Sherlock how amazing it all was but he just moaned against his husband's neck. His free hand moved to wrap tightly around his own cock, pumping in time with Sherlock's thrusts. He bit down at the skin under his mouth as he let out a shout. "Love you. Oh, Christ, Sherlock." He moved his left hand to grab at Sherlock's, gasping when their wedding rings knocked together.

With the increasing pace he had set, Sherlock didn't last much longer. His body tensed and then relaxed as he came. He was panting heavily, and wanted nothing more than to collapse but he clung to John instead. His head came to rest on his husband's back, the grip around his partner lessening slightly. "That…" He trailed off, still unable to form words at this moment.

John stilled for a long moment before his hand moved faster, his body tensing as he came. "Fuck," he whispered as his head fell forward. They would most definitely be doing that again. "Made a mess all over your pillows," he muttered with a wry grin. He wanted to fall forward and rest but being this close to Sherlock, after their first shag as a married couple, was something he wanted to take in. To remember and catalog away for the rest of his life. "I love you, my husband." He shifted slightly so Sherlock would pull out of him but relaxed against him again almost instantly.

Sherlock shifted, so he was now cuddled into John's side, his arms still wrapped around his husband. "Sorry. Should have been the one to finish you off," he muttered. Although, he wasn't sure he would have had the stamina to do so. That had been more work during sex then he had ever done, but he had enjoyed every second of it.

"'S okay," John whispered. After everything Sherlock had done while they were having sex he hadn't expected his husband to have enough energy to help him. It had been worth it. "As wonderful as this is." He closed his eyes. "We should probably head back up to our wedding party." He took a deep breath and smiled. If sex was that amazing every time now that they were married John wasn't going to leave Sherlock alone.

"I suppose you are right. I will just tell them you got lost on the way back to the ballroom and I ended up giving a tour of the place. Mycroft will probably see right through it but…" Sherlock trailed off with a shrug and sat up. He found his trousers and put them on. "Want me to help you with yours?" He asked as he stood up and straightening out his tuxedo as best he could.

John stood slowly, using one hand to pull his trousers up and easily button and zip them. "Don't care if your Mum even knows. That was bloody amazing." He turned to Sherlock and smiled softly. "This means a lot to me, Sherlock. This is the most amazing thing anybody has ever done for me." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "That was the most personal thing you have ever done."

Sherlock smirked and returned the kiss. "Well, I am 'amazing' and 'perfect' so naturally. In all seriousness though, I am…glad…" He wondered if he would spend the rest of his life proving himself to John now but maybe that's what marriage was about. Not just commitment but showing the other person the love every day.

"Hush." John smiled and glanced around the small room. "We will have to do this again sometime. Except I fear we might have tarnished a bit of your childhood." He took a deep breath and swayed slightly on his feet. His hand instantly darted out to grab his husband's. "Is there a long way back to the ballroom? I might be walking a bit funny for a while."


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock smirked once more and gave John's hand a gentle squeeze. "There is a long way back to anywhere, if you know the place well enough and it just so happens I do." He picked up the cane and flicked off the lamp as he led his husband back to the passage. He took the first right they came to. "This will take us to the wine cellar, which is actually underground outside where the ceremony was. We can walk through the garden, before heading back inside if you want."

As John followed Sherlock he let his eyes wander over everything they passed. He had nearly missed Sherlock talking to him. "I like the sound of that. Very...romantic." He smiled like a fool. It was all he could do around Sherlock now that the man was his husband. Just stare at him and smile. It was like the man in front of him had always been unattainable and now he was John's. "I love you," he said with awe.

Romantic? Sherlock supposed it was if John said so. Things like that escaped him usually. They came to a dead end eventually, and he flipped a switch and a giant circle opened the way. "Thirty gallon barrel head made of solid oak. There is of course no alcohol in it." When they passed through, he twisted the tap on the end and it went back in place. "Oh damn...the door outside will be locked. Hold on..." He let go of John's hand and walked to an old style phone hanging on the wall. He tapped the part the held the receiver five times. "Charlie? I was giving John a tour of the tunnels under the manor and we ended up in the wine cellar, could you let us out? That would be splendid. Thank you." He hung up the phone and walked back to his husband.

"You grew up in a fairy tale," John told Sherlock with wide eyes. "Literally. That bathroom we met in? Bigger than my bedroom growing up." He looked around and shook his head in disbelief. He felt like growing up and supporting his family had been the wrong thing now. "I wish I would have met you so much sooner." His mouth twisted to one side as he locked his eyes on his husband. "Do you think your Mum is going to be upset?"

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Normal to me but I guess most people didn't grow up like I did." He thought about John's question a moment before answering. "I don't know. Maybe. It depends on what the real reason for being upset was when she left the ballroom. I doubt it was actually you, not if she had been crying..."

John tensed for a moment. Did he tell Sherlock why his Mum had really been crying? She had clearly tried to hide it from both of her sons for a reason. "Well, it certainly wasn't me," he said softly as he looked around. He couldn't meet Sherlock's gaze now. Lying to him, hiding the truth, never made John feel good. "I will talk to her," he decided with a nod.

Sherlock raised a suspicious eyebrow but ended up nodding instead of inquiring further when he heard the door to the cellar being opened.

"Young Master Holmes, I am here!" Charlie came down the stairs.

"Yes, thank you Charlie. Could you tend to my room and take the cane back for me?" Sherlock asked as he offered the servant the object.

"Of course Young Master Holmes. Anything for you!" Charlie bowed, took the cane and disappeared behind the barrel head.

"I tried to get him to stop calling me that, but it never worked. Obviously." Sherlock smirked and began heading up the stairs.

"Why? Young Master Holmes has quite the ring to it," John teased softly as he followed Sherlock. "Maybe I will start calling you that. Would it make you buy the milk?" He grinned as they reached the top of the stairs, blinking rapidly. He took several steps forward and laughed. "I am walking like I have been shagged. We are doomed, Sherlock."

Sherlock groaned. "Please don't." He locked the cellar once they were out, and then took John by the hand once more. He motioned his head behind them. "Over there is the vineyard, but we want to head to the garden which is the other way." The grass was very green and short, it had been maintained well by the groundskeeper.

John followed him with a smile and giggle. "It is either that or Sex God," he whispered softly, squeezing Sherlock's hand. At this point, John wanted to spend time with his husband outside, alone, and certainly not surrounded by people. "Sherlock." He stopped walking abruptly and met his husband's lips, nipping at his bottom lip. Too many emotions. He was so happy. The only thing he could think of doing was kissing his husband.

"As appealing to my ego as that sounds, I think I will just skip having a nickname." Sherlock smirked a bit as he returned the kiss, pulling John into a hug. It was nice to be away from all those people. Crowds had never really suited him. "Love you," he said behind the kiss. A hand moved to run through his husband's hair.

John moaned softly in response, tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair and giving a gentle tug. His free hand moved under the layers of his husband's clothing to rub at the skin, tracing shapes at random. After a long moment he pulled away and took a long, deep breath. "Your mouth should be illegal."

Sherlock smirked. "I can't help it if amazing at kissing. If it is any consolation, I had a very good teacher. As much as I would love to continue this my dear doctor, we should go. They are probably missing us already."

Going back to the reception was necessary but John wanted to stay, wanted to keep Sherlock to himself. "As long as I get to lick frosting off of you later," he stated seriously as he grabbed his husband's hand and gave it a playful tug. "Besides, I promised your Mum a dance. Should probably follow through." He stood on his toes, placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek, and pulled him toward the ballroom.

"I guess that sounds like a reasonable deal." Sherlock smirked a bit and then raised a curious brow. "Oh you did, now did you? Why by all means, you shouldn't disappoint her." He smirked again as John tugged on him but he followed after his husband. "Already got the place figured out then? Are you sure this is the right way?" The smirk got bigger, teasing John was more fun than it probably should be but he always enjoyed doing it anyway.

John stopped abruptly, glancing in either direction before biting his bottom lip. He was fairly sure this was the way, the sound of talking and laughing and music was increasing. "I...Yes?" He looked back at Sherlock with a puzzled gaze and couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You git," he said with a laugh, shoving gently at his husband's lower stomach with his free hand. "You like to just watch me wander off, do you?" He glanced in every direction he could before shrugging. "Which way is it, then, Young Master Holmes?"

Sherlock continued to smirk but it disappeared into a mock glare at the last comment. "You were going the right way. I just like seeing you squirm as you second guess yourself." A faint smirk returned. "Well then, my _adorable_ dear doctor let us keep going. You don't want to keep my Mum waiting now do you?"

Oh, _adorable_? John returned the playful glare before taking two steps toward the house. "I am not adorable, you know," he said softly, raising an eyebrow. "I have killed people. There is a gun in the bedside table back at the flat. I curse like a sailor." He squeezed Sherlock's hand and turned as they entered the ballroom. All he was met with was knowing smiles, knowing gazes, and Mycroft glaring at them like they were children who had just ruined their best clothes. "They know," he whispered as a blush spread across his cheeks.

"Well, I am no one's _master,_ " Sherlock retorted and when they walked into the ballroom all he could was smirk. He didn't give a _damn_ that everyone knew. Let them. It was their wedding reception; shouldn't they be allowed to do whatever they wanted to?

Nancy approached them with a shake of her head. "Did you two really need to take so long? I could only stall for so long, you know." A faint smile touched her lips.

"What? I was just showing giving John a tour of the mansion." Sherlock replied with faked innocence, although his ever present smirk was a clear indicator he was full of shit.

John stumbled over his words, looking up at Sherlock and then back at Nancy. "Oh, goodness, M-Mrs. Holmes. I- I mean, we...well, it is just..." He dropped his head instantly with a small groan. "Sorry," he whispered with a blush, scooting closer to Sherlock's side and squeezing his hand.

"Must you two run off to shag in the middle of your own wedding reception?" Mycroft came to stand beside his mother with a small shake of his head. "Forty-five minutes. Really?"

"To be fair, most of that time _really_ was spent showing John around the mansion. We just took a momentary detour." Sherlock's smirk never faltered once, clearly proud of himself despite his older brother's disapproving actions. He returned John's squeeze of the hand.

Nancy shook her head. "It is done, but instead of the servants cleaning up tonight you two _will_! Is that understood young men? Honestly, the youth these days…"

Sherlock knew better than to try and argue with his mother. He merely nodded instead, the smirk finally fading.

The moment Nancy spoke John's head shot up. Clean up? _Clean up_ their own reception? On their _wedding night_? John wasn't supposed to be cleaning, he was supposed to be shagging Sherlock into next week. His eyes went wide and he glanced at Sherlock, who apparently only had the last word until his Mum was around.

"John! Did it work, then?" Harry rushed up to them, holding Amy in her arms, and grinning at the two of them. It was clear she was a Watson: short, sandy blonde hair. Strong jaw and expressive blue eyes.

"Harry, not now," John said with a bit of grin, forcing it down as he glanced back at Nancy. "Mrs. Holmes, I promised you a dance." He pulled away slowly from his husband and offered his hand to her.

The smirk returned quickly as John's sister ran up. "It worked rather well, thank you Harry."

"Nancy," she corrected automatically." And yes you do, dear." Nancy looked to Sherlock. "Don't think for a second you can pass off clean up to Charlie either!"

"Mum, I would never dream of-" Sherlock was cut short.

"Oh, I know better. How many times did that poor man clean up after when you made a mess and I told you, _you_ had to do it as a boy?"She turned her attention back to John. "I always did have a thing for military men." She gave her son-in-law a playful wink.

John blushed as Nancy winked at him, grabbing her hand and leading her to the dance floor. He started the rhythm on his own, a bit proud as he met her gaze. "This really has been lovely, N-Nancy..." He stumbled over her name, still awkward over calling her by her given name. "I owe you so much. I am getting my last paycheck from the Army in a few weeks, I will go ahead and give that to you as a bit of repayment." He nodded with a tight smile.

Nancy shook her head as she danced with John. "No. Absolutely not. You keep that money young man. It isn't proper to say or brag, but Honey I have more money than I could possibly ever need. Half of it will go to you and Sherlock when I pass of course. The will has already been amended to include you."

"Sherlock." Harry glanced at her younger brother and Nancy before looking back at him. "Take care of him, will you?" She shifted Amy in her arms and bit her bottom lip. "I know it is your wedding and you are both happy but...I have never seen him look so bad since...since Dad died. He didn't sleep for days and...Just take care of him for me, will you?"

Sherlock nodded, unsure how to interact with John's sister. This was the first time they had really met or even spoken. "Of course. I am hoping the honeymoon will help a bit." He gave a smirk to Harry.

"Oh." John nodded slightly and squeezed her hand. "I just want you to know that you have been a perfect Mum to me. I am sure my own Mum would be proud." He placed a kiss on her cheek in thanks. "Thank you. For everything, really. The wedding, the honeymoon...Sherlock."

"That's what mothers are for dear, but you are more than welcome." Nancy gave John a warm smile.

Harry gave a small nod and looked down in alarm as Amy let out a small cry. "Well, Sherlock, it has been wonderful to finally meet you. Take care of my baby brother or I'll hurt you." She grinned and scampered off toward a bathroom, stopping to grab the diaper bag on her way out.

Sherlock arched a brow as he watched Harry leave with little Sandi. What an interesting person. Not like John at all, well a similar sense of humor. He glanced over to his husband and mother dancing. The man was dancing quite well. He smirked to himself at the thought.

"I...don't want to make this awkward." John suddenly couldn't meet her gaze, taking a deep breath and smirked at the thought of what he was about to ask. "Sherlock and Mycroft have both said that if I-we...If _we_ were loud tonight during...our wedding night, that you would walk in." He chanced a quick look at her and cleared his throat. "Y-You won't do that, will you?"

Nancy couldn't help but laugh loudly at the question. "I hadn't planned on it my dear. Like I said, there is a reason you have an entire wing to yourselves tonight. But if you make enough noise for the other side of the mansion to hear, well I just might have to say something. People will be trying to sleep. It would be impolite to keep them awake, with your…activities."

Right. John might have to hold his tongue tonight, especially after what he had planned. "Right. Yes, ma'am, of course." He nodded and gave her a gentle hug as the song came to an end. "Thank you again. Really, it means a lot." He smiled warmly and turned back to Sherlock with a wide grin. The ballroom was slowly emptying out and that meant...clean up, for Christ's sake. The ballroom was gigantic. There was no way they would finish quickly. He approached his husband and bit his bottom lip. "Might just shag you right here on this floor."

Nancy returned the hug and as John walked away, she spoke. "Since you two disappeared for almost an hour, the photographer will be back tomorrow morning for the pictures. So, try not to ruin the tuxedoes."

"You, my dear doctor, are insatiable." Sherlock glanced around the ballroom. "I think we only have to worry about the trash. Looks like the servants are getting the extra food and what have you."

"I knew next to nobody at this wedding. Why am I picking up trash?" John glanced at the open bar and moved quickly to grab a bottle of beer. "Well, we might as well start." He took several large gulps before raising a brow at his husband. "Shall we, _dear_?" He smiled and finished off the bottle, tossing it in a trash bin before moving to pick up empty cups and bottles.

"Neither did I. Mostly friend's of the family and other important socialites who do charity events with my mother." Sherlock gave a slight shrug and began helping John. "It could have been worse, you know. Mum could have made us sleep in different rooms tonight." His smirk returned as he glanced over to his husband.

"I would have found my way into your room," John stated seriously, tossing a few bits of trash away with a small laugh. "Would have been loud to show off, to let everybody know I made my way to you." He moved toward his husband and gently ran his hand across his chest and stomach. "Clean enough, you think?" He took a deep breath and tilted his head, nipping at Sherlock's pulse point.

Sherlock smirked at John and then arched a brow as he took a look around; it looked half way decent he supposed. "Just so you know, my Mum will only make us do more chores tomorrow if we don't do this to her satisfaction _and_ wake us up early to start them. So, if you are okay with that…then by all means, let us retire to our room."

"Already have to wake up to take pictures," John growled into Sherlock's neck, pressing against him. "I refuse to clean up because you wanted to shag me in your underground room. Refuse," he whispered with a grin, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his husband's troursers and tugging gently. He couldn't wait anymore. Their wedding night was to be spent in a bedroom keeping each other awake. Not cleaning a bloody ballroom. "Now."

Sherlock smirked. "All right then." His Mum would most likely be upset with them and be less than pleasant tomorrow, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want John to think he was trying to stall. Once when he was young, he had refused to do something his mother had asked and then the next day he'd had to do the chores of _all_ the servants because his mother had given them day off. Hopefully his mother would be more understanding this time around. Or maybe if he was lucky, Charlie would finish up for them and Mummy would be none the wiser.

John grinned proudly and pressed against Sherlock eagerly. Perfect. "Where? Don't know my way around, apparently." He let his hand move completely inside his husband's trousers, moving around to cup his arse. Normally he had some semblance of self control, especially in public, but now he couldn't stop.

Sherlock pressed into John. "Eager are we, my dear doctor? Come on then." He tugged gently on his husband's hand and then began leading them out of the ballroom and up two extensive stair cases. All the bedrooms were on the third floor, except for the servant's quarters. He then took them left where a red velvet rope with a sign blocked the way to a hallway. "Reserved," he read out loud with a smirk and then moved past it. "We should probably take the room at the very end."

"Your Mum doesn't joke around, does she?" John asked as they passed the rope. Could it be more obvious that the married couple would be shagging in this hallway? He blushed at the thought. Everybody knew what they were doing right now. Even Nancy. He squeezed Sherlock's had. "Sod it." He tugged Sherlock into a room and the moment the door shut, pinned him against it. He met his husband's lips with a small moan.

Sherlock smirked and was about to comment, when John pulled him into a room and had him pressed against the door. He returned the kiss, arms wrapping around his husband immediately. John sure seemed eager, well the other man always was but it seemed his husband was more so this time around. He wondered what his partner had planned tonight.

John pulled away with a small gasp, tugging at the tie around Sherlock's neck hastily. "Off," he growled, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind him. After their earlier romp, his senses were heightened and he was ready to go, ready to make Sherlock moan and beg. "Bed," he stated against his husband's lips, stumbling in the dark as he pulled Sherlock with him in the direction he sincerely hoped was the bed.

Sherlock arched a brow but did as John asked. His husband was acting as if they had never shagged before or even just a few hours ago. He moved over to the bed carefully, after watching his partner maneuver with a bit of difficulty. He laid down, watching John's shadowy form with curiosity and interest.

All of the excitement was almost too much. John paused, looking at his husband for a long moment before biting his bottom lip. This night was supposed to be special. For John, he had planned it out just for Sherlock. The man laying on the bed never thought he would matter to anybody and now John couldn't see his life without him. Sherlock deserved something special, even if they had already shagged during the reception. "I love you," he whispered as he crawled on to the bed, moving to straddle Sherlock's hips. "You mean the world to me." He pulled the vest of Sherlock's tuxedo open, pulling the shirt out of his trousers and running his left hand under it lightly. Calm. Stay calm.

"I love you too," Sherlock replied and couldn't help but squirm into John's touch, but stilled himself after a moment. His husband seemed to have something in mind for the night and he didn't want to ruin whatever it was. He did reach up a hand to run through his partner's hair, though. He had promised the other man complete control for dancing well, and John had done so. Better than he expected, even. His husband had earned it.

"I'm nervous," John admitted softly, meeting Sherlock's gaze in the dark. "What we did earlier...it was special. I don't want to let you down." He slowly started unbuttoning his husband's shirt. He shifted and lower his mouth to place soft kisses against the exposed skin of Sherlock's chest. He'd had the night planned for a while, had talked to Mycroft and managed to find the head cook in the kitchen when they had arrived. Everything would have been perfect if Sherlock hadn't shown him that little room, hadn't shagged him within an inch of his life. He let his tongue dart out over the scar on his husband's chest.

Special? Sherlock wasn't sure how, but decided not to ask. He did know that he and John viewed relationships completely differently. Partly because he was just inept at them but also because sometimes he just couldn't grasp certain concepts. "No need to be nervous and I find it highly unlikely you will disappoint me."


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock's words made John smile softly and he completely unbuttoned his husband's shirt, carefully pulling it off of his arms and tossing everything off the bed. "I am glad you are being positive," he whispered with a low chuckle, moving one hand to grab the bowl of frosting off of the bedside table. "If you want to stop, you know what to say." He gently met Sherlock's lips and moved one hand to grab one of his husband's wrists, pinning it above his head. His other hand moved to the bowl, dipping two fingers into the frosting and moving to smear it across Sherlock's neck and collarbone. John moved instantly to suck at it, licking at his skin and the icing with a small moan.

Sherlock smirked. "You worry too much my dear doctor." He complied with John's movements without resistance and tilted his chin down to watch his husband apply the icing to his body. He tried not to squirm too much, but God that felt good. His eyes closed in contentment, a small whimper coming from him as he bucked into the man above him.

John smiled slightly, pulling his mouth away to look at his husband. Clearly enjoying it, then. He let go of Sherlock's wrist and got more icing, spreading it down the center of Sherlock's chest and down to his bellybutton. "I will take that as a 'please don't stop,' shall I?" A small smirk tugged at his lips as he lowered his mouth to lick at the icing on Sherlock's scar, one hand running lightly up and down Sherlock's side.

Sherlock opened one eye to look up at John, a smirk returning to his lips. "If I had known it was so tantalizing, I would have made you put the whipped cream on me first instead of doing it to you." The smirk only got bigger but his smugness was quickly forgotten when he felt his husband's tongue on him once more. He squirmed again, fingers curling into the sheets a bit.

John hummed in response, pulling up when the trail was half gone. He moved slowly, pulling off the white jacket with a little difficulty and managing to get his vest and shirt unbuttoned before he needed to stop. His shoulder had certainly limited his range of motion and getting undressed completely was now a small problem. Sod it. Sherlock was below him, pay attention to him. He snapped back into action, mouth open on Sherlock's stomach as he lapped up the icing. "Going to tie you up," he whispered against his husband's skin. "That okay?"

Sherlock continued to writhe into John, any control he'd had was lost now. He glanced down to his husband and smirked again. "I told you I would let you if you did good at dancing, which you did, so I guess it will have to be won't it?" He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Do you want me to help you with your clothes before you do though?"

John visibly flinched at Sherlock's offer for help. This was supposed to be all about his husband. "I...do you mind?" He asked softly, swallowing hard and moving a hand to trace his husband's jaw line. John Watson was typically a proud man but Sherlock had been quiet, had stopped moving, and had asked in such a...thoughtful way, really. "J-Just the shirt and vest," he added nervously. Had he already ruined Sherlock's night?

"Of course I don't mind," Sherlock commented as he began to help undress John out of the shirt and vest. When the task was done, he took hold of his husband's wrist lightly, his thumb running along it lightly. "Why so nervous my dear doctor?" Usually his partner was eager to have control. Confident. Strong. Focused. Now John seemed uncertain, like they had never made love before.

The gentle touch on his wrist made John relax slightly, his eyes finding Sherlock's in the semi-darkness. "I want everything to be perfect for you," he whispered sheepishly. Christ, that sounded horrid. Weak. "I want to make you happy and I am so scared I won't. For the rest of my life...what if I can't?" His voice broke at the end and he suddenly decided he needed to stop, needed to focus on giving Sherlock the pleasure he deserved. His head dropped and his mouth moved to the icing left above his husband's bellybutton. Better. Much better. Now he didn't have to tell Sherlock anything.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in thought, trying to understand where all this doubt was suddenly coming from. It had never been an issue before and he wondered what had happened to start it. Was it his fault? Had he inadvertently done something wrong again? He released John's hand, as his body began to squirm once more. Should they be talking about this? It was hard to think clearly in the haze of excitement. He didn't want the feeling to end but his husband seemed distressed.

John managed to move one hand to get more icing, a small bit on the tip of his finger as he lifted it and ran it across Sherlock's lips. His head darted up instantly and he kissed his husband, his tongue moving into his mouth swiftly. It was clear he was scared and nervous. It had been sudden, really. They were married. What if Sherlock suddenly decided he didn't want to be married anymore? Decided that John was too boring for him? Would he just up and leave? In that moment he had decided to take advantage of the man beneath him as much as he could before that time came. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, licking at the small bit of icing that was left over.

Usually the excitement made everything else around him secondary, at best, but John's body language was…distracting. Sherlock returned the kiss but when it broke, he scrutinized his husband in silence for a moment. "John, what is wrong?" It was obvious something was bothering the other man.

Even in the dark Sherlock was a bloody genius. Should he tell his husband? It would certainly ruin the mood but if Sherlock could already tell... "I am afraid you will leave me," he whispered brokenly, glancing between them. Suddenly the contrast between Sherlock's black pants and his white ones was far more captivating. "What if I get too boring? Or you can't handle Amy? I...want to take advantage of the time I have with you now. I want to make you happy and I need this to go right, need you to _really_ enjoy it."

Where had this come from? Had he done something to make John think that? Hadn't he proven himself to the other man time and again? Sherlock was getting nervous himself now. Had he said or done something to make his husband insecure? Would anything he did be enough to satisfy John, or would he constantly be striving to show his feelings? Well, this wasn't how he had imagined their wedding night ending. "John…you don't have to worry about that…" Sherlock trailed off because he wasn't sure there were words to make his partner feel better.

Oh. No. The silence had certainly alarmed him. "Sherlock, it isn't you. I promise," John said quickly, a hand moving to run soothingly into his husband's hair. "It's...just me, alright? You are perfect and interesting...and I am just me. And tonight while I was dancing with you I realized that I am the luckiest man alive. Typically, when that happens, something goes wrong. I don't want to lose you." He gently met his husband's lips, rocking his hips forward slowly.

Sherlock nodded slightly, still a bit uncertain. Why was understanding relationships so difficult? He could tell what someone ate for lunch based off a stain on their shirt or what someone's job was based off the color ink on their hand. But being with someone else was constantly throwing him for a loop. He returned the kiss and his worries were temporarily forgotten as he pressed back into John eagerly.

Perfect. Distracted. John's hand moved back into the bowl of icing, spreading it eagerly down Sherlock's sides. His other hand grabbed his husband's, squeezing it and pinning it to the mattress as he started to lick the icing off of his partner's torso. He tilted his body slightly, nudging Sherlock's legs apart so he could settle between them. "Love you," he whispered against Sherlock's side, just above his hip bone.

Sherlock complied to John's movements, completely distracted now. "Love you too." He squirmed into his husband with a whimper of desire. More often than not he teased his partner during sex and he wondered if John was going to do that to him tonight. It seemed likely. His husband seemed to enjoy making him beg and squirm.

John finished his little trail of icing and slowly lifted his head, licking his lips with a grin "Want me to keep going?" He asked softly, a hand moving to palm Sherlock's penis through his pants. "Oh, God, Sherlock." His hand pressed forward slowly and then backed off. It wouldn't do John any good to get his husband all worked up this early. He moved his hand to undo Sherlock's pants, tugging at them gently. "So beautiful." He scooped up some more icing and ran it along the waistline of Sherlock's pants, his tongue lapping it up slowly.

Sherlock squirmed below John earnestly. He was feeling a bit anxious and even feisty. A devious thought came to mind and he smirked at himself. "What happened to tying me up? If you don't I just might take away your control, my dear doctor." The smirk got bigger as he lifted his head to look down at his husband.

John growled and whipped his head up, narrowing his eyes. "Hush," he said softly, moving up his husband's body and gently meeting his lips. "Can't rush this," he said softly as his hips pressed against Sherlock's and pinned him to the mattress.

Sherlock returned the kiss, nipping at John's bottom lip. "Make me," he replied with another smirk. He continued to buck into his husband as best he could being pinned to the bed. He brought a hand up to scratch at John's back.

"Ah, shit." John arched slightly into Sherlock's scratches, wincing when the ones from the previous night were aggravated. So much for complete control, he thought wryly. He reached up and grabbed Sherlock's bicep, yanking his arm away and pinning it to the bed. "I am a bit stronger than you now," he whispered as be nipped at his husband's bottom lip. His hand moved up Sherlock's arm to his wrist. "If you behave this will turn out really well for you, Sherlock." He shifted and grabbed Sherlock's other wrist, bringing them above his head and holding them in one hand.

The smirk remained in place, despite his prone position. "And if I misbehave?" It had been awhile since Sherlock had resisted John's control. He had forgotten how much fun it was. How much he enjoyed his partner asserting authority and power over him. The easiest way to get it was to struggle against his husband. It was a guilty pleasure of his he supposed, but he couldn't help how excited it made him. The only thing he could do right now was squirm feebly into the man above him.

"If you misbehave I think I might be a bit too tired to continue," John whispered, moving to nip at Sherlock's ear. "May just leave you here." He pressed his hips down into Sherlock with a soft moan before reaching behind his husband's head, yanking at the extra sheet left for them. "Won't get to see what I had planned." His hand squeezed Sherlock's wrists for a moment. "Behave." He growled against Sherlock's lips.

"No you won't. You want this just as bad as I do, my dear doctor. In fact, I would even go as far to say, you just might want it more." The smirk never leaving his lips. Sherlock began nibbling on John's lower lip since it was close enough for him to reach. He managed to squirm a little more, obviously excited by everything going on at the moment.

"I hate you," John whispered, pulling away from Sherlock's mouth. He pressed his body weight down forcefully, leaning forward slightly to start tying his husband's wrists together above his head. "Don't get to touch me," he whispered as he yanked at the sheet and smirked down at Sherlock. "Want to keep fighting me?" He asked lowly, moving so his lips were just above his husband's.

"No you don't. You love this and you know it." Sherlock only smirked bigger, his light eyes filled with amusement and mischief. He pressed his body into John's as much as he could, considering he was pretty well pinned between his partner above him and the bed under him. He struggled against the restraints slightly, just for show but not to actually trying to slip them. He nipped at John's chin, lightly.

John let out a soft moan and shifted, glancing at Sherlock's tied wrists before moving his hands to yank at his husband's trousers. "I never fight you," he whispered as he placed a kiss against Sherlock's stomach, arching slightly so most of his body was off of Sherlock. "But I do want to hear you beg." His hand slid to cup his husband through his underwear, squeezing gently.

"Well maybe you should," Sherlock shot back, with a raised eyebrow. He would have commented on the last part, but once John had his lips and hands on him he couldn't remember his comeback anymore. His body writhed with desire and excitement, causing his wrists to tug slightly at the sheet tied around them. The loss of being able to use his hands only encouraged his already eager state and he struggled a little harder reflexively. "Please?" He breathed out, a whimper of yearning escaping shortly after.

"Oh God, yes," John whispered, dropping his head and pressing his forehead against Sherlock's lower stomach. He sat up and moved his hands to his own trousers, hurriedly undoing them and yanking them down with his underwear in one movement. He shifted, falling beside Sherlock on the bed and lolling his head to the side to gaze at his husband, taking a deep breath and smiling like a fool. "Like it, then?"

Sherlock turned his head to look at John, his lips twisted into crooked smile. "I would like it better if you were still on top of me. If you make me wait too long, I'll slip out of the bed sheets and just take care of myself. Don't forget, I got out of those handcuffs. You wouldn't want me to dislocate my wrist again, would you?" The smile twisted into a smirk.

"I wouldn't like that, no." John turned slowly on to his side and moved one hand to gently finish pulling Sherlock's trousers and underwear off. "But what would be the fun in that?" He gently met Sherlock's lips as a hand grabbed the bottle of lube. "Bit pushy for being tied up, don't you think?" After a moment of studying his husband, he moved to straddle Sherlock's hips, his left arm wrapped behind him. Soft moans escaped his mouth as he prepared himself, his head thrown back as his moans got progressively louder.

Sherlock's body twitched yet again, as his pants slid all he down. "Perhaps, but I need to have a little fun too." He arched a brow and looked down at John with a grin. "Jesus, John. What do you need me for, if you enjoy your own hand so much?" Despite being tied up and at the mercy of his husband, he was feeling rather cocky tonight.

John's right hand moved shakily to rest on Sherlock's cheek, pausing for a moment before turning his husband's head and pressing it into the pillow. He was trying to focus, the last thing he needed was Sherlock being a cocky bastard. "Keep that up and I will," he paused to suck in a breath, tilting his head forward with a small whimper. "I'll leave you like this and finish myself off." His hips rocked forward slightly and let out a loud moan.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk again. "We have already be over that John. No you won't." Anything else he was going to say was quickly forgotten when his husband moved into him. He pressed back into his partner, another whimper escaping his lips. For a moment, he didn't remember his hands were tied up and he moved to grip John, desiring closer contact. His wrists tugged at the restraints, as a reminder. "Please?" He asked again, his voice sounding a little more desperate than he intended.

"Oh, but my hand is _so_ much better," John said with a small gasp, his hips thrusting forward quickly. "Shit." He took several deep breaths and glanced up at his husband's tied wrists. "Bit needy now, are we?" His stomach tensed as a low moan escaped his chest, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "Yes. Ah, Jesus." His hips started a slow, shallow rhythm against Sherlock.

There wasn't a lot Sherlock could do except continue writhe into the man above him as best he could. His eyes closed as he let out a moan of pleasure. How much begging would he have to do? John always seemed to like it, especially when his partner was in control like this. "Want you. _Need_ you," he whispered, fingers digging into the sheets tied to his wrists so he could at least claw at something.

John smirked and moved his hand, getting some lube and moving to gently stroke Sherlock's cock. "But a few minutes ago you said you would just do this yourself." He took a deep breath and moved to gently meet his husband's lips. After a few strong strokes his hand stilled and he shifted, taking another breath before slowly lowering himself on to Sherlock's cock. "Oh, Christ." He stopped when he was sitting on Sherlock's hips, rocking forward slightly and letting out a loud shout. "Sherlock. Ah, yes."

"L-lied," Sherlock managed to get out. He squirmed more excitedly into John's touch and a moan escaped him when he entered his husband. The grip of the sheets tightened, turning his knuckles white from the strain. With effort he managed to match his partner's pace, even though there was an itching desire to start a rough and fast pace.

The moment he felt Sherlock move beneath him, John moved a hand to roughly grab Sherlock's hip and pin it to the bed. "No," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. "Don't move." His hips rocked forward again and he hesitantly let go of his partner's hip. "Move and I will stop." He finally lifted his hips, moving up slowly and coming down at the same pace. He closed his eyes and rocked his hips forward in three fast, rough movements, his moans loud.

No moving? At all? What the hell was he supposed to do? Sherlock tried to hold still but his body was having a hard time cooperating. He began curling and uncurling his toes and fingers, because it was practically impossible to not react from John's thrusting. He was spending more time concentrating on being still than on his husband's movements.

"Talk to me. It will help you focus," John whispered softly, biting down on his husband's ear softy. "Tell me how it feels and what you want." Another three thrusts, rough and fast. A small grunt echoed through the room with each one. "Focus on me. C'mon, Sherlock," he met the other man's lips gently.

"I want you to let me fucking move," Sherlock replied bluntly. Asking someone not to move during sex was like asking a baby not to cry when it was hungry. Well at least to him, or maybe he just wasn't _that_ submissive. Even when he'd had John cuffed to the bed, he had allowed the other man movement. This was most unfair.

John froze for a moment, glancing down at Sherlock and taking a moment to study his face. When planning the night, he thought it would be interesting but it clearly wasn't working out. "F-Fine." He nodded hesitantly and moved his hips slowly, lifting and dropping again before rocking forward. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Fuck. John was already feeling insecure and worried about tonight. Had he screwed up the moment for his husband? Sherlock would have run a hand down his partner's face reassuringly if he could. "It's fine…" He said softly. What could he do to make it right? Not move? Or had he already ruined everything already? He remained still, as he forced himself relax.

John gently met Sherlock's lips as he kept a slow rhythm, pulling away and meeting his husband's gaze. "You can move," he whispered with a weak, quick smile. If it had been upsetting enough for Sherlock to mention it then John saw no point in forcing him to stay still. He wanted Sherlock to be happy. "Please move," he nearly begged.

Sherlock nodded slightly, his body moving to match the pace set by John. "I love you," he said as he looked up to his husband. He hoped he could make things right for the other man. Usually things happened so easily for them, in regards to sex. Maybe they were trying to hard? Relax. Don't over think it.

"Love you too," John whispered softly has he gently picked up the pace of his hips. "You feel wonderful. S-Sherlock," his voice hitched and he met his husband's gaze intently. "Harder," he growled, trying to fix their earlier moment and trying to get Sherlock to keep moving. "Jesus, harder, please."

Sherlock smirked. "Why look it here, the man in control asking for something. Wonders never cease." The smirk got bigger, his eyes bright with amusement. "I seem to be all tied up right now. You might have to _make_ me." Better. Much better. Fall back into a familiar routine. He continued the same pace for now just to be stubborn, despite the fact that harder thrusts sounded very appealing.

Dirty bastard. John narrowed his eyes with a small smirk and pressed roughly into Sherlock, a hand moving to scratch at his chest. Using Sherlock's main weakness seemed like the best option at the moment. His fingernails dug harder into his husband's skin as he slowed his hips with a knowing smile. He lowered his mouth to Sherlock's ear. "Harder. That's an order." He tugged at his dog tags hanging around Sherlock's neck.

Yep. That would about do it. Sherlock moaned as his breathing began to increase and become uneven. "Yes Sir," he managed to get out. He continued a faster and harder pace, struggling to maintain a rhythm in his excitement. He turned his head so he could kiss his husband, nipping on the other man's lip. He moaned into the kiss, his wrists straining against the bed sheets some as his body rocked up and down.

Perfect. Why in the world hadn't he tried that before? John gasped into the kiss and managed a weak grin. "Fuck, yes." He sloppily started another kiss, stopping his hips for a moment and taking Sherlock's rough thrusts with soft grunts. "So good." He let out a loud shout.

Sherlock continued to kiss John; it was hungry and needy like his tempo. "John…" He trailed off, gasping for an intake of air. He continued his rough pace, quite enjoying it. He hoped his stamina wouldn't give out too soon. He decided to press his luck and began thrusting with a little more pressure and speed. "Oh God…" He breathed out, his back arching a bit. Just a little longer. He wanted to make it last a bit longer.

Mind-blowing. That was literally the only word that could be used to describe what was going on. "Sherlock," John shouted his husband's name and moved a hand to grab one of Sherlock's. His hips moved frantically as the man below him, a bit off tempo. "Don't stop. Please, don't." He moaned and buried his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck, now clutching desperately at his husband's hand.

As soon as he felt John's hand in his, he gripped it tightly. Sherlock continued the pace as long as he could but eventually he couldn't contain himself anymore. His body tensed as he came with a loud moan, his body relaxing immediately afterward. He tried to say something to his husband, but all that came out was gasping breaths. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he became aware of the pain in his chest. Worth it. Definitely. He closed his eyes, as he tried to concentrate on breathing normally again.

John rolled off of Sherlock immediately, groaning slightly at the loss of contact. "That was good." He rolled on to his stomach to hide his erection from his husband. Everything had been for Sherlock, he didn't want the other man focused on anything else. He smiled and lifted a hand to rest on Sherlock's stomach. "Deep breaths," he whispered as he moved to place a kiss on his husband's side.

"…yeah…'sgood…" Sherlock agreed. His breathing was finally getting some form of normalcy. He opened his eyes and turned his head so he could look at John. He tugged lightly at the bindings on his wrists. "If you undo these I can get you off or you going to keep me tied up all night?" He smirked a bit, as he shifted so the bed sheets didn't tug too much on his skin.

"I'm fine," John replied as he shifted slightly, keeping himself on his stomach as he easily untied the sheet from around Sherlock's wrists. "That was all for you, I am fine." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's chest and curled into his side. "And you really seemed to enjoy it so it was worth it. I think you might actually get some sleep tonight." He made sure to keep his hips away from Sherlock's body, careful to not focus on anything but his husband and how happy he clearly was.

Sherlock inspected his wrists briefly, no real damage. Just a bit sore and red, however his body had endured much more damage so it wasn't something he was really even worried about. He snuggled into John, an arm wrapping around his husband to pull him closer still. "You sure?" He tilted his head slightly and gave his partner a kiss on the top of the head.

Of course John wasn't sure. He was a man with a hard-on who had just been shagged by his husband. He wanted to get off but he had planned on spoiling Sherlock. It had worked. "Yeah," he said softly as his hand moved from his husband's stomach to rest over his heart. "Planned tonight around you. I don't matter."

Sherlock gave a snort. "Yes you do." He pulled John closer still, his head resting on his husband's good shoulder. His other hand reached over their bodies, as he groped around to find his partner's erection. Once he found the cock, he began a slow but steady rhythm. He was tired and his wrists were sore, so he it was all he could manage at the moment. Hopefully it would be enough.

"Bloody mind reader," John hissed as he pressed into Sherlock's hand with a soft groan. His hips started to meet Sherlock's hand each time, his chest moving in quick and shallow breaths. He had been keeping himself calm while they made love and the small time lapse had made him sensitive. "Sherl-" His body tensed as he came messily between them, sucking in deep breaths. It hadn't taken much. How embarrassing. "Have a good night then?" He smiled warmly as he curled into Sherlock's side, craning his neck to gently met his husband's lips.

Sherlock smirked. "Deducing _is_ what I do." Once he got John off, he let go of the penis and wiped the mess off on the sheet. "Yes. It was good. We should do that again sometime." He stretched his lanky frame and then snuggled back into his husband. Usually sexual acts didn't leave him tired, but he was feeling now. Maybe a quick nap. Was that okay on the first night of being married? Or was there more to expect?

John hummed in agreement and yawned, clicking his teeth together as his mouth closed. "Want to make love again in your secret room," he whispered into his husband's chest. It had been wonderful, he had felt closer to Sherlock the entire time. Closer than he had ever felt. "Sherlock, 'm tired." He closed his eyes and pressed as close as he could into his partner, shifting to yank a blanket over them. "Nap. Wake me up when you are done napping." He smiled tiredly and moving his hand across his husband's chest, sliding it up to tangle in his hair.

Sherlock thought for a moment that John wanted to go back down to the secret passages this instant. Oh. Whew. Good. He was nowhere near ready to go again. He agreed readily about the nap and snuggled in closer to his husband. His body relaxed and his breathing came to rise and fall slowly as he drifted off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

It was sill dark out when Sherlock woke up. He had probably only slept a few hours, but that was all he usually got and he was feeling fine. Maybe he should let John sleep longer. His husband needed to sleep more than he did. He idly wondered if the ballroom was still the way they left it. He wasn't looking forward to the lecture he was certain his mother would give them. John didn't really seem to understand the rules of the house, although he hadn't really bothered to try and explain them either. Maybe Mummy would cut them a break since they had just got married.

Perhaps John needed to get married everyday and be shagged twice within an inch of his life. It was the most peaceful sleep he could remember that wasn't brought on by drugs in or out of a hospital. The only thing that disrupted him was the obvious change in Sherlock's breathing as he woke up. Still dark. And, Christ, he was sore. He winced as he stretched, letting out a small groan at the movement. "You alright?" He asked his husband softly as his hand moved from Sherlock's hair to lightly draw shapes on Sherlock's chest. He hadn't done that in a rather long time.

Damn. He had woken up John anyway. Sherlock had wanted his husband to sleep longer. Oh well. "Yeah. Just thinking. I do that a lot, you know." He turned his head to look at his partner, a smirk crossing his lips as it had so many times before. "How about you? I got…a little carried away that last time…"

"Tad sore," John replied with a sheepish smile. "Don't worry, I told you to. Brought it on myself." Which was true. He had ruined the moment and upset Sherlock when he'd told his husband he couldn't move. The only way he could think of making it up to him was to give him some ounce of control. "I think it might have been the fact that you shagged me twice, really. We have never done that." He closed his eyes and placed several soft kisses on Sherlock's side.

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes in contentment from the kisses. He was quiet and enjoying the moment for a little while. "Do you want me to get you anything? You didn't eat a lot at the dinner." He turned to look at John once more, eyes opening so he could look at his husband.

John's eyes shot open and he glanced up nervously. Sherlock had seen that? He had tried to hide it the best he could. "W-Would you mind?" He asked softly, ending it with a giggle as he found some stray frosting on his husband's chest. He moved and slowly licked it off, his tongue caught between his lips as he moved his gaze back to Sherlock. "Don't have to if you're tired. You don't have to cook anything on my account."

"I don't mind. I said I would get food, not cook it." The smirk on Sherlock's face returned. "I grew up in a mansion with servants. There is always at least one of them awake." He sat up slowly, stretching out his limbs. "Anything in particular that you want? Leftovers? Something fresh maybe?"

"Tea?" John whispered as he watched Sherlock sit up owlishly, curling tighter into the blanket. "Um...bread would be nice." He nodded into his pillow and closed his eyes, burrowing into the bed with a small sigh. It was obvious he was still extremely tired. "Maybe some fruit," he muttered into the pillow as he yawned. It was too cold without his husband to curl against and the last thought he had before he fell back asleep was that he wished Sherlock would lay back down.

Sherlock watched John for a moment, a smile on his lips. He put on trousers but no shirt and then left, deciding he would take longer than necessary so his husband could sleep longer. He went back to the ballroom first. It was still the way they had left it. He decided to finish cleaning up first and then he would go to the kitchen to get John the food.

It had been a quick argument, really. Lestrade had been hungry and didn't want to move after Mycroft had practically shagged him into the mattress. Given that, he was the one who had to go to the kitchen for food, naturally. As he rounded the corner into the ballroom he froze, glancing at his younger brother and giving a small laugh. "Decided to finally clean up?" He asked softly, bending down to pick up a few cups and toss them in the nearest bin. "Where is your better half?"

Sherlock hadn't expected anyone to find him and it startled him when Mycroft spoke. He turned around to look at his older brother. "I had planned on doing it after John was asleep. I knew Mum wouldn't be happy about it if it wasn't done. We upset her once already, didn't want to do it again. She deserves at least that much after all the effort she put into everything." He gave a slight shrug and continued to pick up the mess.

"Let me help," Mycroft said with a bit of a smile, cleaning off a table and tugging a bin closer to Sherlock. "We got a couple of hours until Mum wakes up." He threw a few more cups away before noticing the red marks around Sherlock's wrists. "Didn't think John had it in him," he whispered with a smirk toward his younger brother. He lifted his eyes and couldn't help the warm smile that overtook his face. "I'm proud of you, Sherlock. I am so happy that everything worked out."

Sherlock dumped the trash into the bin next to him. "I kind of talked him into it," he replied as he looked down to his wrists with a smirk. He shrugged off the last part. "I guess it has. Only time will tell really." He continued to throw things away. "What are you doing up so late? Thought for sure you would be sharing a room with _Gregory_." The smirk returned as he glanced up to Mycroft.

" _Gregory_ got hungry," Mycroft replied with a smirk of his own, moving to a new table and collecting as much trash as he could in his arms. "We are, in fact, sharing a room. I imagine that by now he is asleep. Ordinary man, he is. Sleeps at such regular hours." He shrugged as he dumped everything in his arms, leaning against the trash bin and tilting his head. "It will work out, Sherlock. I don't doubt for a moment that you two will ever want to end this. You are perfect for each other, it's just that sometimes you have trouble seeing it."

"Yeah, John was hungry as well but he fell back asleep before I left. So, thought I would take a little while so he could sleep longer," Sherlock explained as he threw more trash away. "Probably. I don't know. We fight a lot…at least lately we have been. I guess that is normal? Obviously I don't have anything to base that off of."

"You are the most stubborn man I have ever met. Of course you're going to fight, Sherlock." Mycroft tossed a few more things into the bin before looking around. At this point he could manage the rest himself. "Why don't you go get John's food? Spend time with him. I will finish cleaning up." He motioned his head toward the kitchen and smiled. "Don't think about the future or fights or any of that, dear brother. Think about how much time you get to spend with him now. He is retired from the Army, you're married. Take advantage of it."

Sherlock smirked a bit and nodded. He left the ballroom and went into the kitchen. There were a few servants milling about. He was asked if he could be helped with anything but he declined. He could put together simple things on his own like tea, fruit and bread. He put the kettle on and while he waited, he cut up various fruits. Watermelon, strawberries, oranges, and apples. Once they were diced up, he put them all in a bowl. He cut some slices of bread and put them on a plate. The water was ready by then and he made two cups. He put them all on tray and headed back upstairs. He entered the room quietly, incase John was still sleeping.

John had managed to fall asleep but without the warmth and comfort of Sherlock near him the nightmares had returned. He shot up in the bed, panting and looking around frantically before he remembered everything. Awake. Food. Tea. Sherlock had left. He curled back into the covers with a small sob. Blasted nightmares. He wanted to go back to normal, to sleep calmly and not worry about anything. When the door opened he poked his head out from the covers, looking at his husband before burrowing himself back into the blankets. Deep breaths. Calm down. He took a deep shaky breath. "Tea, then?" He bit his bottom lip and ran the blanket across his eyes roughly.

Sherlock moved over to the bed, setting the tray down on the bed carefully. "You all right my dear doctor?" He reached over and turned on the lamp next to the bed and then sat down next to John. He scrutinized his husband, with a bit of a frown. Nightmares, he concluded silently. He picked up his cup of tea and began sipping from it slowly.

John didn't move for a moment, his head moving slightly from under the blankets as his red eyes lifted to look at Sherlock. "Nightmare," he whispered softly. "Worst one I have had in a while." He cleared his throat and shifted to burrow his face into the pillow beneath him. "'S stupid. Sorry." He lifted his head slightly, his blonde hair askew, and examined the tray. Suddenly the thought of food made him sick to his stomach and he let his head drop back on to the bed.

Sherlock frowned a bit, set down the tea on the tray and then moved the tray over onto the nightstand. He moved closer to John and snuggled into him gently. "Do you want to talk about it?" He wasn't sure if his husband would want to. His partner rarely discussed them with him.

John looked up at Sherlock for a moment and curled into a tighter ball when he snuggled against him. "I was in the field..." His voice broke and he closed his eyes for a long moment. "And the soldier in front of me just went down. Shot. So I did what I was supposed to." His eyes opened and searched Sherlock's desperately. "All he was doing was shouting and telling me to let his Mum know he loved her. And I just kept putting pressure on his leg and talking." It was too much now and his eyes slammed shut. "When he finally stopped talking, stopped moving, I looked at his face. And...it was you." He pressed his face into Sherlock's chest with a weak sob, clutching the blanket tighter around his body.

Sherlock listened quietly and wrapped an arm around John, to pull his husband into a sideways hug. He really wasn't sure what to say or do to comfort his husband. He wished there was a way to make John stop having the damned nightmares period. "Try not to think about. Think of something else. Think of when we shagged in that secret room. Think of little Sandi." He hoped giving his husband something else to think about would help. He tilted his head down and kissed the top of his partner's head.

Happy. Think happy. John relaxed fractionally and managed to slowly open his eyes. His eyes stayed forward, looking intently at Sherlock's chest, before he decided to speak. "I love you," he whispered shakily, pressing the tip of his nose against his husband's chest. One hand snaked out of the blanket and ran gently up and down the other man's side. "What did you bring to eat?" He managed a watery smile as he lifted his head to meet Sherlock's gaze.

Sherlock gave a small smile. "I know you do. I love you too." He ran a hand through John's hair soothingly for a few moments. "Exactly what you asked for. Tea, bread and fruit. I sliced up different kinds of fruit and made into a salad of sorts...I guess... I did something domestic. Go ahead and laugh at me." Hopefully he would get his husband to at least smile.

John grinned and chuckled slightly. "Look at you," he said softly, closing his eyes at the hand in his hair before moving to meet his husband's lips. He pressed against Sherlock before pulling away, reaching across him and grabbing out of the bowl. "Apple," he said as he popped the fruit in his mouth. "I am the luckiest man alive. My husband made me a _fruit salad._ " He laughed again and reached into the bowl, pulling out an orange piece and holding it against Sherlock's lips.

Good. It had worked. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh too. He ate the orange, taking a moment to suck on John's fingers afterward. He smirked as he pulled away. Being fed food should not be such a damn turn on. He leaned into his husband and kissed his lips, the tongue taking no time at all to explore his partner's mouth.

Good Lord. John closed his eyes as Sherlock sucked at his fingers, caught off guard when the man met his lips. He eagerly returned it, moaning softly as his tongue tangled with his husband's. Every night should be their wedding night if it was going to be this wonderful. His hand shifted to tug at the dog tags around Sherlock's neck as he ran his tongue across the roof of his husband's mouth.

Sherlock moved with the tug anxiously, settling so he could straddle John. He continued the kiss, his hand scratching lightly though his husband's hair. He pressed his body into his partner's, so their chests were touching. He wiggled into John, enjoying the friction the trousers caused.

John moaned and arched into Sherlock. The friction the trousers caused against his bare body was driving him mad. It was perfect. He didn't care if Sherlock was in his pants, it felt wonderful and it wasn't going to stop. He pressed his hips up again, tearing away from the kiss to throw his head back with a shout. One hand moved to scratch at his husband's shoulder while the other moved down to grab Sherlock's ass through his trousers, pushing his hips forward.

When the kiss broke, Sherlock took a moment to breathe and then began kissing, sucking and nibbling along John's neck. He growled from the scratching, his body writhing excitedly into the man below him response. His lips eventually found his partner's ear, and his tongue danced along it lightly.

All of the attention to his body made a small shiver run through John's body, his hand moving from Sherlock's shoulder to tangle in his hair. It had been oddly quiet, just the occasional moan. The only real thing he could hear was their harsh breathing and the slide of Sherlock's trousers against his own bare body. Suddenly, John decided he liked it much better than the words that usually flowed from his mouth. He wiggled slightly to kick the blanket away from his legs, keeping a slow and steady rhythm with his hips as he pressed into the man above him. He couldn't help the soft moan that escaped his lips as Sherlock's mouth and tongue worked at his ear. The hand on his husband's as tugged him forward roughly again

The wiggling from his body became so intense, Sherlock had to grip the headboard for support with his hand. He moaned from the tug. Panting slightly, he lifted his head from John's ear and move his lips to his husband's chest and began to suck on it a bit aggressively. He made sure to pick a spot he hadn't scratched to hell the night before.

While normal sex was quite enjoyable, John suddenly decided that this was just as wonderful. Honestly, he found it more erotic. Sherlock still in his trousers above him... it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He never wanted this to stop. He took a sharp intake of air as Sherlock moved his mouth to his chest, arching into it as his hands tightened in his husband's hair. Shit, were they really going to get off like this? With Sherlock in the trousers to his tuxedo? It had been one of his fantasies for a while and now that it was happening, he couldn't contain himself. His hips arched up roughly and John was suddenly thankful that Sherlock had grabbed the headboard.

Originally Sherlock had only intended to make out with John, but the turn of events was quite pleasing. The hand on the headboard almost lost its grip, as something between a moan and growl escaped his lips from the thrusting hips below. He continued to squirm with wild intent and desire, practically unable to contain himself...not that he really wanted to anyway. Once satisfied there was a proper mark on his husband's chest, he began sucking on his partner's good shoulder.

Good. Very good. Sherlock's mouth on his shoulder made John moan softly, his hips slowly losing the set rhythm. He took a deep breath and yanked his hand from Sherlock's unruly hair, moving quickly to hold his husband's hips as he thrust against him in quicker movements. He turned his head slightly to watch Sherlock's mouth work on his shoulder, his mouth ajar as he took on deep gasps of air.

After this, Sherlock was certain he would need another nap. He was running out of places to mark, so he returned his lips to John's. It was sloppy, due to his ragged breaths but he didn't seem to care. He hadn't thought something like this would be so arousing, but he was certain he was going to get off soon.

John eagerly returned the sloppy kiss, nipping at Sherlock's bottom lip. He took a moment to suck in a deep breath before his entire body tensed, a soft moan and Sherlock's name slipping from his lips. He came roughly, jerking into his husband several times before he collapsed on to the mattress and closed his eyes, whimpering slightly as he struggled to catch his breath. Shit. That was... He couldn't think straight.

The grip tightened on the headboard, from the last few rough thrusts. He came shortly after John, his body tense for a moment before it relaxed and collapsed to the side of his husband. He would have told John how amazing that had been, but he was having trouble just breathing normally. He grabbed a sheet and cleaned them both up as best he could and took the trousers off. He snuggled into his partner, taking the other man's hand in his. His mother was going to kill him, his trousers were a mess.

John squeezed his husband's hand with a small smile, letting his eyes slip closed. "That was." He took a deep breath and giggled, turning his head to look at the tray of food and tea. "Well, our tea is cold," he muttered as he reached over Sherlock and grabbed a slice of bread, taking a bite and smirking at the other man. "Wanted to do that for such a long time. Thank you." He took another bite of bread and pressed the slice against Sherlock's lips with a wry grin.

Sherlock snuggled a little closer to John, resting his head on his husband's shoulder. His breathing gradually evened out. "Should have told me, could have done it sooner." He shook his head at the offered bread. "Not hungry. Tired," he admitted. He pressed closer to his partner still, his eyes drifting close and it didn't take long for sleep to overtake him.

If all it took was a _really_ good shag to knock Sherlock out then John would put his skills to good use in the future. He finished the slice of bread and glanced down at his husband with a smile. Sherlock looked so much younger in his sleep, relaxed. Awake, the consulting detective looked constantly upset, eyebrows knitted together constantly. But now, curled against his side, his partner looked like a young adult, happy beyond belief. And _he_ had done that. John Watson. A grin overtook his face and he let his head fall back. He wasn't tired at all but Sherlock needed to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock didn't sleep that long, only slightly over an hour. He groaned and shifted a bit, as he slowly came back awake. It was nice, warm and comfortable in his current position. So, he stayed curled against John. Pictures would be taken soon, maybe an hour or two away if he had to guess. He lifted his head so he could glance up to see if his husband was awake or not.

"Sometimes in your sleep you mumble and then smile." John smiled softly as Sherlock looked at him. "At one point you even yanked me closer to you." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's forehead, his hand running lightly up and down Sherlock's spine. He hadn't slept at all, too fearful of more nightmares and waking his partner from the quick nap. Instead, he had watched Sherlock sleep, grinning as he would mumble and even chuckling when his husband had tugged him closer. "How did you sleep?"

"So, you have told me before," Sherlock replied with a slight smirk. "Sleep good when next to you," he admitted. "Didn't sleep then?" He sat up in the bed a bit, tilting his head so it could rest against John's and took his husband's hand in his. "Pictures probably won't be for another couple hours, if you wanted to try and sleep a bit."

The offer sounded wonderful and John was exhausted but the idea of sleep shook him to the core. What if he had another nightmare? What if the next one was worse? He met Sherlock's gaze and smiled a bit as he squeezed his husband's hand. "Not tired," he whispered. He would rather stay awake and stare at Sherlock in awe. This man was his _husband_. He still couldn't believe it.

Sherlock knew better but merely nodded. He couldn't make John sleep, if the other man didn't want to. He returned the squeeze. He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. What did married couples do in the morning? "Well, what do you want to do then? I could give you another tour, show you more of the mansion. Or maybe a proper breakfast?"

"I just want to spend time with you," John replied as he brought Sherlock's hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss against his knuckles. "Perhaps a tour that ends in a proper breakfast?" Another kiss to his husband's knuckles. Now that John knew he got to wake up every morning with Sherlock he couldn't stop staring at him, touching him. "Is your Mum going to kill us? I think we ruined your trousers an hour ago."

"Are you up for it? I shagged you last night, _twice._ " Sherlock grinned proudly. He shrugged a bit. "Maybe. Well, probably. She was looking forward to having photos of everyone all dressed up…" He sighed. "Didn't know it was possible to get off like that, but even if I had I probably would have done it anyway. I seem to have no self control when I am around a certain _adorable_ doctor." He turned his head so he could smirk at John.

"Three times if you count when you still had your trousers on." John had been grinning until Sherlock had called him adorable. "Oi," he growled playfully. "I am older than you. Not adorable." He nipped at Sherlock's lower lip and brought his other hand around to rest on the side of his husband's face. His thumb ran across Sherlock's ear slowly. "I liked having you still in your trousers," he admitted with a sheepish blush. "It was...good. Really good." He moved to tangle his legs with his husband's, pressing closer to him.

Sherlock only smirked bigger. "Well, if you liked it so much we will have to do it again sometime. Although, we have a tendency to keep trying new things. Which I am more than fine with, keeps it more interesting." He turned his head to suck on his partner's thumb and pressed back into John, an arm wrapping around his husband to draw him into hug.

Was it the fact that they were now married that made Sherlock so much more sexually attractive? John _knew_ he was attracted to his husband but most of the time he could keep it in check, control himself like an adult. But now? Every little thing his husband did turned him on. Talking. Sucking on his thumb. His arm around John's body. Christ, this was getting out of hand. At this rate they were going to shag each other to death. He pressed his erection into Sherlock with a soft moan, pressing his thumb farther into Sherlock's mouth as he lowered his head to lick and suck at his partner's neck. "I just like being with you," he whispered against the other man's skin.

Another go around? It seemed likely at this point. This was what newlyweds did, right? It wasn't like Sherlock minded. If things were like this now, he could only imagine how the honeymoon would be. He tilted his head to give John better access, moaning softly. He moved to straddle his husband again, pressing his lower body into the other man eagerly.

Oh yes, they were going to shag each other to death. John didn't doubt it now. Being married hadn't changed them as people at all. John was still an injured Army doctor and Sherlock was still a cocky consulting detective but, for some reason, John felt the need to constantly touch the other man. This was perfect, really. "How long until pictures?" He gasped as he spoke, arching into Sherlock's movements with a loud moan, biting down on a tendon in his husband's neck.

"Hour, maybe two hours tops. Are you ready to do this again? How is your shoulder?" Sherlock managed to ask, despite the itching desire to keep going. He growled loudly from the bite on his neck, fingers digging deeply into the sheets below them. He continued to squirm into John anyway, one hand moving to scratch at his husband's good arm.

Sherlock was on top of him, practically shagging him, and he was worried about John's shoulder? Oh. Shit. His shoulder. John hadn't even thought about it until his husband had mentioned it and...it really hurt. John frantically shook his head and pressed his hips up again. "Fine. 'S fine," he whimpered at the pleasure that shot through his body, drowning out the pain. While his shoulder wasn't the main focus of John's problems right now, getting shagged again was. "Love you," he whispered and shifted to meet Sherlock's lips. "But you can't' shag me again. Too sore."

As much as Sherlock didn't want to, he moved off John and laid down next to him once more. "We should wait…the point of pushing the honeymoon back was so you could heal. That isn't going to happen if we keep doing this." He leaned over and kissed his husband's forehead. "We should probably get cleaned up soon anyway."

No. _No_. John clenched a hand in the sheets to try and calm himself down, swallowing hard and slamming his eyes shut. He just wanted to make love to his husband and because of some blasted idiot in Afghanistan he couldn't. Bloody wonderful. "I don't think your trousers can be cleaned up," he said through clenched teeth, smiling slightly and turned to look at his husband. How was he supposed to get rid of his erection? If Nancy wanted pictures then John had a serious problem on his hands. Then again, so did Sherlock. "I really just want to shag you until we both have heart attacks," he whispered as he shifted and met his husband's lips.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "I know, but we we are supposed to take it easy. Remember? This hardly qualifies. Do you want me to at least give you hand job?" Without waiting for an answer, he shifted so he was down by John's hips. His fingers trailed along his husband's inner thigh lightly. He brought his other hand over and he caressed his partner's cock, giving it a gentle squeeze.

John arched instantly into the touch, gasping and moving a hand to tangle in Sherlock's hair. After the past day they had, he was sensitive. Just Sherlock's hand made him shake with desire. "T-This okay for you?" He asked with a small moan, his hips pressing forward into his husband's hand. He swallowed hard and tightened his hand in his partner's hair.

"It is fine my dear doctor," Sherlock replied with yet another smirk. He began a steady rhythm on John's cock, the speed increasing with each stroke. His other hand continued to trace along his husband's inner thigh lightly. He smirked a bit bigger and he decided to move his head down and began sucking in time with his pumping hand.

"Oh, God." John tensed as he struggled to keep his hips still, not being able to stop a few small thrusts into his husband's mouth. The light touch on the inside of his thigh wasn't helping much. His other hand moved to scratch at Sherlock's shoulder blade, his fingernails digging into his husband's skin as he came suddenly. A loud shout ripped from his chest as he collapsed against the mattress. "Sherlo-" He took a deep breath. "Want me to return the favor?" John lifted his head lazily, raising a brow as he studied his husband.

Sherlock managed not to gag from John thrusting into his mouth and it took him a moment to swallow everything. Once he did, he removed his mouth and wiped his hand across his face with the back of his hand. "Only if you are up to it." He moved back up to snuggle into his husband's side yet again.

Of course he was up to it. His husband just gave him a wonderful blow job, how could John _no_ t return the favor. He gently met his husband's lips and moaned at the taste of himself on Sherlock's tongue, pulling away to travel swiftly down his partner's body to take his cock into his mouth. He worked his mouth slowly, humming for a moment before bobbing his head several times. One hand moved under Sherlock, a finger entering his husband as his other hand massaged his hip bone.

Sherlock couldn't help the loud moan that came from his lip, his eyes closing immediately. He fought the urge not to move the wonderful movements of John's mouth and fingers. One hand sought for purchase in the sheets, curling tightly until his knuckles turned white. His other hand groped around blindly until it found his husband's head, fingers scratching through the hair.

John moaned around his husband's cock, working his finger in and out of his husband. His mouth continued the slow pace, sucking a bit harder as he glanced up at his husband. It was clear that Sherlock was struggling not to move. John wanted to change that. He owed the other man after practically fucking his mouth during their previous blow jobs. He pulled his mouth up slowly, keeping the tip of Sherlock's penis in his mouth and smirking. It was a dare, really, to make Sherlock move.

One eye cracked open as he whimpered in desire. Sherlock tilted his head down to look at John curiously. The waiting was torturous and when he couldn't stand it any longer he thrust into his husband's mouth with a moan. He tried not to set a frantic pace, fingers wrapping the sheets around his knuckles repeatedly to help keep restraint.

John exhaled loudly through his nose, hollowing out his cheeks with a soft moan. He kept his mouth where it had been and used his hand to lift Sherlock's hips up, dropping them and following his husband's cock eagerly. God, this was perfect. He hummed and brought his hand up to tangle with Sherlock's.

Good God. This was wondrous. Sherlock continued to thrust into John's mouth, managing to keep a steady tempo despite his excitement. He moaned, the rest of his body twisting in fervor. This was quite possibly the best blow job he had ever received. A few fingers managed to find their way the sheets and cling to his husband's hand. After a few more thrusts, he came with a loud moan of pleasure. He took in deep breaths of air, as his body relaxed.

John pulled away with a small cough, some of Sherlock's semen falling on to the sheets as he struggled to swallow it all. Well, his husband had certainly enjoyed that. He smirked proudly and crawled up the bed. "Glad you liked that," he said softly as he collapsed next to his husband, laying on his stomach and grinning foolishly at Sherlock as he licked his lips.

Sherlock reached over and began running his hand through John's hair. "The term 'like' doesn't begin to describe how much I enjoyed that. Not sure there are adequate words." He gave a slight smirk and then shrugged. "You know, I think I might have an extra pair of trousers in my old bedroom. From back when I took dancing lessons. Weight wise I am about the same but I might be too tall now…"

"You are not wearing trousers that are too short for you," John whispered as his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his husband's fingers in his hair. "I am fairly sure your Mum has a second pair for you. She had to have planned ahead." He lifted his head and turned it, placing a soft kiss on the inside of his husband's palm. "Mental note: I will definitely be doing that to you again."

Sherlock nodded a bit. "If Mummy didn't, then Mycroft probably did." He continued to run his fingers through John's hair. A sensation he was sure he would never tire of. He smirked at his husband's last comment. "Oh God yes." He wanted to just stay in bed with his partner all day but that wasn't really a viable option, since they were expected for post wedding functions. "Well, perhaps we should get ready. Don't want to keep Mum waiting now do we?"

John didn't want to get up ever. He wanted to stay right here with Sherlock in bed for the rest of his life. "I guess," he whispered softly, smirking at the mess they had made all over the bed. Thank the Lord they didn't have to pick _this_ up. "Make sure you pack up that lube," he muttered as he rolled on to his back and slowly sat up. "We need to keep that stuff. Worked wonders." He slid out of the bed with a small groan, walking a bit funny as he picked up a fresh pair of boxers that had been left on the dresser.

Sherlock had to search a bit to find the scattered pieces of clothes. He carried them into the bathroom connected to the room. He flicked on the light and took the time to shave his slightly scruffy face. In the mirror's reflection he saw trousers hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Fantastic. Apparently they had a notorious sexual reputation and he was okay with that. He got dressed, fumbling over the infernal tie.

John dressed slowly, moving into the bathroom with his trousers on but his shirt hanging from his shoulders, unbuttoned. "C'mere," he whispered, placing a quick peck to his husband's lips as he grabbed Sherlock's tie and slowly started tying it. "Told you they would be prepared." His eyes darted down to Sherlock's new trousers as he finished the tie, straightening it. Should he be worried that somebody had known to get Sherlock a second pair of trousers? Especially because it was _just_ Sherlock, and not him? He swallowed hard and turned to the mirror, buttoning his shirt slowly with a small wince at each movement that jarred his shoulder.

Sherlock dropped his hands with a frustrated sigh and let John fix the damn tie. He had never bothered to learn how tie them properly because up until recently he had successfully avoided ever having to wear them. "Here, my turn to help you." He reached up and gently moved his husband's hands out of the way and then began buttoning the shirt.

John smirked slightly and let his hands drop to his side, looking up at Sherlock as he finished buttoning the shirt. "You are very cute when you're frustrated," he muttered as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the tip of his husband's nose. "Even more cute when you're so determined, like right now." He pulled away when the shirt was buttoned, moving into the bedroom and picking up his vest. He slipped it on easily, buttoning with a stubborn look, managed to get his tie down, and slipped on the white jacket. "Still don't see why I'm wearing white." He glanced at his husband as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Now get over here and make out with me for a few minutes."

"I am very cute no matter what I do," Sherlock replied with a smug smirk. He walked back into the bedroom, buttoning the cuffs into place. "You are wearing white because you are the _adorable_ one." The smirk returned as he sat down next to John. "You think after today, we can just stop at making out? We have kind been on a roll. Not that I'm complaining."

Oh great, the _adorable_ argument that everybody made. John didn't see it. All he saw in the mirror was a thirty-nine year old man that had been torn down by the Army. That was the farthest from adorable that anybody could get, really. "Probably not. I can't keep my hands off you, Sherlock. I can make an exception because we are all dressed up now." He shifted and threw his leg over his husband's lap, straddling him as he gently met his lips. "You can never stop, either," he whispered against the other man's lips as his tongue darted out playfully.

"I can stop if I want to," Sherlock retorted. Although, even he wasn't sure how entirely accurate that statement was. He supposed at times he _had_ but most to the time he hadn't had that kind of will power. He was about to kiss John when there was a knock at the door.

Charlie's voice came from on the other side of the door. "Young Master Holmes. Captain Watson. Lady Holmes and Master Mycroft are waiting for you downstairs. They request your presence for the photographer."

John lifted his head with a small, jealous growl. He didn't want to share Sherlock today. Not with Nancy or Mycroft or some bloody photographer. He stood slowly, still glaring at the door, as he adjusted and straightened his tuxedo. "Sod the photographs," he muttered a bit unhappily as he turned his gaze back to his husband. "Why do we even need wedding photos? We were there, we knew it happened. Why pictures?"

"Mum wants them. She paid for the photographer and the wedding. Our honeymoon too. Come on. Best to just get it over with. There is a family brunch afterwards too, I believe. You, me, Mum, Mycroft, Harry, Mrs. Hudson, probably Lestrade and of course little Sandi." Sherlock got up off the bed and put a reassuring hand on John's good shoulder.

Amy. Christ, he hadn't seen his little girl in over a day now. That made him relax slightly and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Alright," he whispered as he moved to laced his fingers with Sherlock's hand. He tugged his husband from the room, through the hall, but froze the moment he saw Mycroft and Nancy.

"Finally decide to stop shagging each other?" Mycroft muttered with a knowing smirk. "Honestly, Captain Watson, I heard you on the other side of the manor." He nicked his head slightly to the side and glanced around the parlor with a bored sigh.

Sherlock walked hand in hand with John. He smirked at his older brother. "Mycroft, you are just jealous Lestrade couldn't keep you up all night."

"Boys!" Nancy scolded. "Honestly, we have _guests_ still. Mycroft, stop instigating."

Sherlock smirked. "Yeah. Stop-"

"Sherlock! Stop being a stubborn brat. Good heavens, what I am going to do with you two? Do I really need to put you in separate corners?" Nancy shook her head, clearly exasperated with her two sons.

John glanced between the Holmes brothers with wide eyes, dropping his head as Nancy snapped at them. He squeezed Sherlock's hand. Despite the embarrassing content of the conversation, Sherlock had stood up for him. It was clear only a day after marrying the man that he had made the perfect choice in marrying the man next to him. "Mrs. Holmes, did you have any idea where you wanted to take pictures?" He hesitantly lifted his gaze to look at Nancy.

"Oh, hush, little brother." Mycroft took a step forward. "I cleaned up the ballroom for you so you could go back and shag him. Doesn't seem like too good of a night to me."

"Sherlock, you made your brother pick up after I told you that you and John were to do it? Really…" Nancy shook her head. "Can't you just listen to me for once?" She took a calming breath, as she often did when dealing with her sons. She looked over to John. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Nancy? And yes. Outside. Better lighting and it is actually a nice day out."

Sherlock glared at Mycroft for ratting him out. He bit his lip, to prevent progressing the quarrel because their Mum was already upset and he didn't want to make it worse. His hand involuntarily squeezed John's in his silent seething. Just another day with the family. And they still had brunch to struggle through. Bloody perfect.

Mycroft smirked proudly and moved out the double doors into the backyard, clearly proud of himself.

"S-Sorry." John dropped his gaze. He squeezed the hand back reassuringly. "It was me last night, Mrs. Ho- Nancy. I...distracted Sherlock. I'm sorry." He looked up at her and bit his bottom lip. Christ, the woman was worse than his Mum. Then again, his Mum worked two jobs and was rarely home. This is what it must have been like to _actually_ have a Mum. "I can clean up after the brunch, if you would like, ma'am."

"I was finishing it and he offered to do the rest," Sherlock muttered as Mycroft walked out of the room.

Nancy shook her head at John. "It's fine dear. The boys are just fighting for my attention like usual." She followed after her eldest son.

"This is pretty much a normal day for the Holmes household," Sherlock commented to John. He wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day at all and just wanted to go back to their flat and be left alone in peace.

John looked up at his husband. Had he just gotten the other man in trouble? "I'm sorry...I didn't think..." He tugged at Sherlock's hand without finishing the sentence, following Nancy outside with a small frown. What the Hell were they supposed to even be doing in these pictures? Smiling and looking happy? Because after what had just happened, John was fairly sure Sherlock wanted to punch Mycroft in the face.

"Mum, I was thinking by the fountain," Mycroft commented with a small smile. "Over by those cherry blossoms. If we could get them smiling and ignoring the camera, the pictures would look wonderful."

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Not your fault Mycroft is a prat." When he passed Mycroft, he made sure to ram his shoulder into his older brother as he went by. "Suck up," he growled between clenched teeth. He put on a fake, tight smile. He just wanted to get these stupid pictures out of the way.

Nancy eyed her two boys. "Honestly, if your father was still alive…" She trailed off and she had to clear her throat to keep her emotions in check.

Mycroft stumbled slightly and shot a glare toward his younger brother. "I want the pictures to look nice," he growled, only stopping at the mention of their father. Too close. His gaze went instantly to their Mum and he seemed to learn his place almost instantly.

John tensed at the mention of Siger, at the obvious show by Nancy to keep herself calm. "I...that sounds wonderful." He looked up at Sherlock and took a deep breath. "If you wouldn't mind, Nancy." He reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing it as he flashed her a warm smile.

Nancy took a moment to compose herself. She was still struggling with everything that had happened, though she tried her best to hide it from her sons. "I just wanted a nice family photo I could put in the sitting room. I wish…your father could…" She trailed off again, clearly fighting for control once more.

Sherlock frowned at the words spoken by their mother, but kept any thoughts he had to himself. Just because he had been over his Old Man's passing didn't mean his mother was. He hadn't really thought about how she was dealing with things. Just a prime example of how much of a selfish child he really was at times. He was at a loss for words, but he was certain Mycroft would say or do something to make everything magically better. He was the perfect son after all, he thought bitterly.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock with wide eyes, hesitating but not moving. What did one do in these situations? He had never seen Mum cry and it looked like it was about to happen.

John glanced between the Holmes brothers before pulling his hand away from Sherlock's and embracing his mother-in-law. "Nancy, it's alright," he whispered as he held her close to him. The other two men _clearly_ weren't able to handle emotions at all, especially from their own Mum. "We can get a really nice photo, just the three of you, yeah? I am sure it will look just as nice." He placed a soothing kiss on her temple, one hand rubbing up and down her back in an attempt to calm her down. "Maybe one with me and Lestrade in it? All of your happy sons?"

Nancy returned John's hug and nodded into his shoulder. She refused to cry again. Especially not while her boys were present. "That would be good. Yes. Perhaps a picture of you and Sherlock with Amy as well. And then all of us together. Yes." She released her son-in-law, finally back in control. "Everyone in place for the first picture. Boys, over here with me by the fountain."

Sherlock watched John console his mother with seemingly effortless ease. He didn't argue when he was beckoned, merely moved over to his Mum immediately.

Mycroft followed his Mum but kept his eyes locked on John in awe and jealousy. It had been so effortless for the other man to comfort his Mum and he had stood around and done nothing. Wonderful. Now he looked horrible. He situated himself behind Nancy and looked over at Sherlock.

John watched with a small smile as the three of them moved to the fountain, glancing around the backyard with a small sigh. There. Easy enough fix, really. Considering he would be dealing with a teenage girl in a few years he figured he had done quite a good job. He grinned at Sherlock, his heart jumping into his throat at the sight of his husband in his tuxedo, looking particularly handsome in the sunlight.

At least someone here was emotionally equipped to help soothe their Mum, because Sherlock and Mycroft were sorely lacking in that area. He saw John grin and he couldn't help but smile back.

Nancy stood between her sons and smiled for the camera. "Okay, now Sherlock and Mycroft behave for a bit. I want a picture of you two, then you two with John, then Sherlock and John. And then the happy couple with Amy. Oh! And me with Amy!" Just talking about who went where in what photo made her brighten. It wasn't often she got pictures of her family all dressed up. Only once before, but that'd been about twenty years ago.


	14. Chapter 14

"Here you go, John." Lestrade stood beside the Army doctor and passed over Amy, freshly bathed and in a white dress.

"Oh, hello there young lady!" John lifted her up in the air, bringing her back to his chest the moment his shoulder hurt. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered in her ear as he bounced her slightly in his arms. He kept his gaze locked intently on Sherlock as he did.

Mycroft looked at his brother for a moment and glanced at Lestrade. "Mum, can Greg and I have a picture?" He asked softly.

"Of course!" Nancy exclaimed. "And then one of all four of you. All four of my boys, yes that will be lovely." She clapped her hands together excitedly.

Sherlock shuffled in and out of pictures without complaint, without a word period really. Having his picture taken, in this case repeatedly, wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. Like everything else in the wedding, he did it to humor his mother.

When it was time for his picture with Sherlock he passed Amy over to Nancy, moving to his husband with a soft smile. It didn't take a genius to see that Sherlock was unhappy. "Hey." John grabbed his husband's arms and turned him, glancing at the photographer as the man nodded happily. "Look at me." He grinned and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, his hands resting on his husband's lower back. He lifted his head slightly with a smile, eyes bright, and the camera flashed several times.

Sherlock managed a real, albeit small smile for John in their picture together. His mother had insisted on two pictures with them and little Sandi. One where John was holding her and the other he was. Several more photos were taken and to him it felt like an eternity until his mother was finally satisfied.

Nancy was talking excitedly with the photographer, as she explained what sizes and how many of each photo she would want. When she finished she turned to face the four men. "Brunch will be ready in about a half hour. It will be in the secondary dining room. I expect _everyone_ to be on time. No room to dilly-dally." She glanced pointedly at John and Sherlock before disappearing back inside the mansion.

John blushed as Nancy looked at him and Sherlock, dropping his gaze to Amy as he rocked the infant in his arms. "Look at you, baby girl." He used his index finger to gently tickle her stomach. "Behaving for pictures." He bent and placed a kiss on her forehead and watched as Lestrade and Mycroft walked back into the house rather quickly. "So they can run off and shag but we even _think_ about it and your Mum stares us down." He smirked and glanced up at his husband. "Thank you."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as his mother walked away. He looked to John with raised eyebrows. "For what?" He couldn't think of anything he had done lately that would warrant his husband's thanks. He thought about asking to hold little Sandi but his partner didn't like being reminded of his bad shoulder.

"For everything," John replied softly, standing on his toes and placing a kiss on his husband's cheek. He smiled up at Sherlock for a long moment before sitting down on the edge of the fountain, rocking Amy and humming softly. "What are we going to do tonight?" He didn't look up when he asked, focusing completely on his daughter. "Going back to the flat? Staying here?"

"Oh well, you are welcome then." Sherlock sat down next to John. "I thought we would go back to the flat. Unless you wanted to stay here another night?" Oh God, he hoped not. His time with the family was wearing down on him. He was ready to get the hell out. He could only handle family affairs in small doses and he was pretty sure he had met and exceeded his quota for the year.

"I miss Baker Street," John commented softly, looking at Sherlock with a small smile. Right now he was sure that life couldn't get any better. He leaned slightly to the side and gave his husband a gentle kiss. "Last night," he paused and chuckled, "And this morning. Wonderful. We should get married every day," he whispered with a mischievous grin.

"Just think of all the things we will do on the honeymoon, after your shoulder is healed proper. A whole month to ourselves." Sherlock returned the mischievous grin to John. Wait they were going to a beach. Maybe he would get lucky and no swimming would be involved. He had never learned how to swim, something he didn't want to have to admit to his husband.

The honeymoon. Just the thought caused a chill to run up John's spine. "A whole _beach_ to ourselves," he whispered. Christ. They had to wait a month for his bloody shoulder to heal. It would be well worth it in the end. "I will miss you, though," he spoke to Amy in a high-pitched voice, lower his head to touch the tip of her nose with his own. "Yes I will," he whispered as he closed his eyes. One of Amy's hands lifted shakily to bump against the side of John's head.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile as he watched John with little Sandi. It was nice to see his husband happy and at ease. It seemed John was easing back into civilian life smoothly. He had been worried about the transition back at the hospital in Egypt. "Come on. We don't want to be late." He smirked a bit, stood up from the fountain and then waited for his partner to get up.

John stood slowly and glanced at Sherlock. "Am I right to assume this is going to be Hell?" He bit his bottom as he headed back into the manor. It seemed the Holmes family weren't too fond of being near each other for extended periods of time. He wanted to go back to the flat with his husband and daughter. On the bright side, he was a bit hungry.

"I don't know. Maybe. Depends on how much Mycroft annoys me and vice versa. How much Mum will or will not put with. She has been…temperamental lately. Probably because father is dead." Sherlock gave a slight shrug. "Or she is just tired of putting up with Mycroft and I nagging at each. We do okay, when we aren't home. But when we are, it is like being little kids all over again." He shrugged again, a slight smirk tugging at this lips.

"Well...behave?" John glanced nervously at his husband. "Make it through today and maybe I will spoil you tonight." He winked at Sherlock as they entered the house. He sat in a chair and kept Amy close to his chest, his cheeks a bit red at his forward action toward his husband. They were married but it was still a bit odd to guarantee sexual favors for him.

"Behave? Bah." Sherlock snorted. "Ah, Mrs. Hudson will be looking after little Sandi then?" The smirk got bigger and he took his seat next to John. The table was long and servants were busy putting food on the table. Apparently they were a bit early; no one else was seated at the table yet. Well, at least they couldn't be yelled at for being late.

"No, she will be in her crib," John stated with a small roll of his eyes. "I have got a bit of a creative idea. So _behave_ , Sherlock." He glanced at his husband as he rocked Amy in his arms. It wasn't until Mycroft and Lestrade entered the room, red-cheeked and still panting, that he took his attention fully off his daughter.

"John. Sherlock." Mycroft sat down and yanked a chair open for Lestrade, who plopped into it with a small wince.

Sherlock looked to Mycroft and Lestrade as they entered. It was hard to behave. He had at least three different quips for his older brother and the Detective Inspector. He wondered if John would shag him anyway, because since getting married his husband hadn't be able to resist him. And conversely, he hadn't been able to resist his partner.

Nancy came in and sat to the right of the head of the table, next to Mycroft and across from Sherlock. The seat at the head of the table would forever remain empty. Everywhere she looked was a reminder of Siger. She was thinking of moving out, but still keeping the manor in the Holmes name of course. Pushing aside her thoughts, she looked around the table. "I believe Mrs. Hudson and Harry are still joining us. They were invited too. They a part of this family. Family, in the end it is really all you have. You remember that, you hear me boys?"

Sherlock frowned slightly but nodded anyway. It was strange. His mother would go from being the proud woman he knew so well, to…this… Perhaps she wasn't coping as well as he had first thought. Or maybe he just didn't want to think about her as being weak, when she was usually so strong. It was hard to see her like this.

Harry pranced into the dining hall proudly, a short but tasteful summer dress swishing at her knees. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Holmes." She smiled as she sat down next to John and Amy, giving her younger brother a quick kiss on his cheek and glancing at Amy with a small smile. "Johnny, the wedding was wonderful. I am proud of you," she said softly as he blushed at her comments.

Mrs. Hudson was close behind, clearly chuckling as she sat across from Harry and next to Lestrade. "Sorry I'm a bit late, dears." She smiled at both Sherlock and John. "And the ceremony was lovely, Nancy. Wonderful job."

John just sat back, one hand moving away from Amy to rest soothingly on Sherlock's thigh. His thumb rubbed into his husband's trousers but he kept his gaze locked on their daughter. He couldn't look up now. His entire body was tense and he was struggling to stay calm. Siger was gone. Nancy was struggling. It was _his_ fault. He squeezed Sherlock's thigh without thought.

Harry calling John 'Johnny' caught his attention _immediately._ Sherlock turned and smirked at his husband. He leaned over to whisper in his partner's ear. " _Johnny_ , easy with your hand there. I thought you wanted me to behave." He sat up straight once more. There was a wide range of food: bacon strips, Belgian waffles, silver dollar pancakes, varying flavors of syrup, bagels, toast, various styles of eggs, sausage patties and a bunch of other food that he couldn't quite make out at the other end of the table.

Hearing Sherlock's voice so close to his ear knocked John back into reality. He managed a tight grin at his husband as he pulled his hand away, eyes wide was he struggled to compose his thoughts. It wasn't until two plates knocked together loudly that his head shot up. He jumped in his seat at the loud noise, a noise that had reminded him _so much_ of a gunshot, so suddenly that Amy started to cry. "Shit, sorry." He swallowed hard and stood up, stumbling slightly as he pushed the chair back. "Going to..." He trailed off as he rocked her, leaving the dining room as quickly as possible.

Harry tensed, looking around for a moment before biting her bottom lip. What in the world had just happened?

Sherlock watched John leave with frown. Shit. First his mother was having some sort of emotional crisis and now his husband was having war flashbacks. Would leaving as well upset his mother? Should he go after John? Would his partner want him to? He sighed at his thoughts, this family brunch was already turning out to be hellish and no one had even started eating yet.

Nancy matched her youngest son's frown. What had gotten into John? She looked to Sherlock questionably, but based on his look her son appeared to be just as confused as she was.

John returned several minutes later, Amy asleep in his arms with a pacifier in her mouth. Well, walking back into the dining room certainly was awkward. He had jumped up like some mad man because two bloody plates knocked together. Maybe he wasn't doing as well as he had like to think. "Sorry," he muttered as he kept his head low, keeping his daughter close to his chest. The transition into civilian life had never been easy for him which is why he figured he had gone back to Afghanistan a second time. Now he couldn't do that and any loud noise scared him.

Harry hesitantly reached forward and shoveled some eggs and sausage on to her plate, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson soon following suit. Might as well eat while everything was going to be awkward.

Sherlock glanced at everyone as they all started getting food. Right. No one was going to say anything. It had been a long time since he had eaten breakfast food, not since he was child. He smirked a bit and began putting food on his plate. He then picked up the maple syrup and poured it _all_ over his food. It was something he had done as kid and if he recalled correctly, it was actually quite good.

"Sherlock!" Nancy commented, clearly mortified. "You aren't eight anymore!"

Sherlock gave a small shrug, ignoring all the eyes on him now, which was what he had wanted. To shift the attention away from John and hopefully make the stifling silence dissipate. He took a forkful of the sloppy mess off of his plate and shoveled it into his mouth.

John watched his husband and snorted slightly, biting his bottom lip and clearly trying not to laugh. Good Lord, his husband was _perfect_. To anybody else it looked like Sherlock just eating his food, no matter how childish or...quite disgusting. But John knew. Of course he knew. Sherlock was taking the attention away from him. "Thanks," he muttered as he shifted Amy to his left arm and reached forward to try and get some food. He twitched slightly at pain shooting through his arm and almost instantly decided that he wasn't that hungry. His arm dropped back to his side and he cleared his throat.

"Mmm…'sgood…" Sherlock commented to John, with food still in his mouth. Apparently he had forgotten what good manners were.

Nancy shook her head. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Sherlock!"

Sherlock took a moment to swallow the food. "Want me to take little Sandi for a bit?" He turned his attention back to his husband.

John glanced down at the sleeping infant and then up at the food. Christ, he was _starving_. But Sherlock was eating. Maybe just for a bit? He would eat and take her back so Sherlock could continue his meal. "Yeah, d'you mind?" He handed Amy off without waiting, shoving as much food as he could on to his plate. He went to take one giant forkful of eggs and bacon before he heard Harry clear her throat.

"Johnny, manners," Harry said softly, looking at him much like a mother.

John sighed and dumped the forkful back on to his plate, taking a small one and slowly chewing it. "Owe you," he said out of the side of his mouth, the food shoved to the other side.

"Johnny! Chew your food!" Harry snapped, hitting him on his good shoulder.

Sherlock took little Sandi carefully and was in the process of chewing another bite of food, when Harry reprimanded _Johnny_. He did a spit take, food sputtering out of his mouth and all over his plate and table as he started laughing.

"Sherlock! It isn't polite to laugh at guests! And most certainly _not_ your husband," Nancy chastised her youngest son. "You would think I never taught you any manners."

John narrowed his eyes, failing to hide the smile on his lips as he turned to Sherlock. "Yes, _Young Master Holmes_ , it isn't very polite!" He let out a small giggle himself, attempting to calm himself as Amy's eyes opened blearily.

"Johnny!" Harry buried his face in her hand, groaning in embarrassment. "Mrs. Holmes, I am so sorry. He is usually more well behaved, I swear."

John took a deep breath and nudged Sherlock's side. "Amy," he said between fits of laughter, clutching at his side.

Sherlock stopped laughing and gave John a mock glare. He looked down to little Sandi and cringed. She had just fallen asleep and now she was waking up. He dropped his fork, so he could cradle her in his arms and began rocking her back and forth. He hopped she would drop back off to sleep and not wake up crying.

Nancy looked over to Harry, not bothering to hide the smile she had now. "It is fine. It's a nice change. Usually everyone is yelling or fighting."

Amy blinked her eyes several times, a hand curling into a fist as she stretched, pressing her feet briefly against Sherlock's forearm before falling back asleep.

John let out a sigh of relief, licking his lips and looking at Sherlock with a grin. "I love you," he whispered as he leaned to the side and gently met his lips. Christ, the man tasted like maple syrup. That was...new and very good. His tongue ran teasingly across Sherlock's bottom lip before he pulled away and glanced across the table.

Mrs. Hudson sat with a large grin on her face, looking between John and Sherlock like a proud mother. Mycroft and Lestrade, on the other hand, looked mortified. What in the _world_ had just happened? One minute it was tense and the next laughter and even Nancy was smiling.

Sherlock smirked at John. "Apparently, _Johnny,_ I am not the one who needs to behave myself." He glanced to little Sandi, whew good. He fit her into the crook of one arm easily and he picked his fork back up to eat his food.

Nancy looked between Sherlock and John, shaking her head but her lips were twitched into a faint smile.

Sherlock would most certainly pay for that tonight. John had completely forgotten about his childhood nickname from Harry but now he really wished he had told Sherlock beforehand. Johnny was horrible. It made him wince when he really thought about it. He turned his head away and took several slow bites of food as his foot slid over next to his husband's under the table, running up the back of his calf slowly.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Figures that the _perfect couple_ can get away with that," he said into his food.

Sherlock looked up to Mycroft with a smirk. "Jealous as always my dear brother." He bent his leg to trap John's foot in place. He crossed his other leg over, to rub his foot against his husband's. He continued eating, to keep up appearances.

"And here I thought we could actually make it through a family function without a fight," Nancy said with another shake of her head.

"Mummy, he started it," Mycroft stated with a roll of his eyes. "Pouring syrup all over his food like he did when he was five. This is ridiculous." He looked at Lestrade, who narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Mycroft took the hint and turned back to his food.

John's breath caught slightly and he covered it up with a small cough, reaching for his glass of water. Even through their bloody shoes he could feel Sherlock's touch and it was too much. Being married was dangerous for them, really. He took a deep breath and continued to eat his food, wiggling his foot slightly to try and free it. They were stubborn but he wouldn't let Sherlock win a game of footsie.

Sherlock ignored Mycroft, concentrating on John's foot under the table. He kept his knee bent in place, but dropped his other foot momentarily and he wiggled his foot out of the shoe. Cheating? Oh probably, but he didn't care. He had a feeling his husband wouldn't actually mind either. He crossed his leg over once more, his sock clad foot running up and down his partner's leg lightly.

"Just because Sherlock acts like a child, doesn't mean you should. You are the older brother, try setting a good example next time," Nancy said to her oldest son.

"Oh." John closed his eyes for a long moment, his hand tightening around his fork so hard his knuckles turned white. Shit. He was slowly learning to not mess with Sherlock. _Ever._ Was this payback, then? Give his husband the best blow job of his life and in return he gets a bloody hard-on at the family brunch by just Sherlock's foot? Fantastic, really. "Nancy," his voice broke and he cleared his throat, licking his lips. "I wanted to talk to you about helping...pay for some of the wedding?" He had tried once and, really, he needed to get his mind off of Sherlock's damn foot.

Sherlock smirked and he dropped his foot to the floor, before John started moaning in front of everyone. Well, he would be amused by that but he figured his husband wouldn't be. He went back to eating the food on his plate. There was still syrup left over when he was finished, so he did something he almost never did. He got seconds. He swirled the food around in the syrup before eating once more.

"Nonsense! I won't let you. Keep it for your little one." Nancy nodded to Amy sleeping against Sherlock.

John was about to speak again when he noticed Sherlock getting more food. Had marriage already changed his husband that much? Or did John just need to keep more syrup around the house? "Yes, ma'am, of course. I just...I am getting a job at the surgery at St. Bart's and..." He cleared his throat and smiled. "I just feel like I owe you. Especially because...I mean, the honeymoon." He reached out and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Is there any way we can repay you?"

Sherlock listened to the conversation between John and his mother in silence. He continued eating, quite enjoying his food. Maybe he should just start putting syrup on everything he ate. It seemed to make everything better.

Nancy shook her head. "Dear, one doesn't do these things because they expect something in return. They do it because they want to." She glanced over to her youngest son who was still eating. "If I had known dumping syrup would get you to actually eat, I would have had syrup with every meal." She smiled, clearly amused.

Well, that left no room for argument. "Yes. Right." John nodded and sat back in his chair. He had eaten one full plate and he was full, licking his lips. "Here, Sir Eats-A-Lot." He gently took Amy from his husband with a soft smile, placing another kiss on Sherlock's lips. Syrup was a win-win, really. Sherlock seemed to enjoy it and he was eating and John couldn't stop kissing him after he had eaten in. "Nancy, d'you think I could get a few bottles of syrup for the road? I might be able to fatten Sherlock up!" He grinned as he rocked Amy gently in his arms.

Sherlock relinquished little Sandi to John. "What? It's good?" He muttered around a mouthful of food. When was the last time he had eaten like this? He honestly couldn't remember. Maybe he never had. He leaned over to whisper in his husband's ear. "You just want to take the syrup for other reasons, don't you?" He pulled away with a smirk.

Nancy smiled. "If it will get my baby boy to eat, you can take all the syrup home that you want."

"Hush, _baby boy._ " John smirked knowingly. Syrup would be quite the mess but imagining Sherlock licking it off of his body made a small shiver run up his spine and he reacted noticeably.

"Johnny, everybody knows what you are thinking," Harry commented with a soft giggle.

"Oi, don't need it from both sides, _Harriet._ " John turned his gaze to his older sister with a small smile, looking down as Amy squeaked slightly in her sleep. "Nancy, I will take a few bottles off of your hands, if that's alright. I am sure I might be able to work it into some meals."

Sherlock smirked to John's sister. She wasn't half as bad and annoying as he had thought she would turn out to be. He finished his food, feeling quite full. He was certain he wouldn't need to eat again for another month. He pushed his chair away from the table a bit, so he could stretch out. His hands came to rest over his stomach.

Nancy eyed Sherlock and then John. "Mmm. I am sure you will make good use of it." She gave a faint smile. "You know, you two remind me of Siger when were first married. It is how Mycroft came about."

John looked at Nancy with wide eyes. How did one react to that? They already had a kid, but that was due to John's over-active libido and poor judgment skills. On top of that, Nancy clearly hadn't been taking Siger's death as well as everybody thought. So, he settled for glancing at Mycroft. "Nancy, are you trying to tell me that Amy is going to become the British government?"

Mycroft went pale and choked on his bite of food, looking at his Mum with shock. In no way, _at all_ , did he want to think about his Mum and Dad like that. Ever.

"What, Mycroft? Did nobody tell you how babies were made?" John smirked and looked over at his husband, scooting his chair closer to the other man and leaning to rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock seemed unfazed by his mother's comment and he couldn't help but smirk at Mycroft's reaction. He thought for a moment and then sat up, still looking at his older brother. "Wait…you mean you didn't know?"

"Sherlock! You weren't supposed to know, but somebody was _curious_ when they were still young." Nancy recollected fondly.

"What? I wanted to know what Dad was doing to make you giggle so much. You _never_ giggle," Sherlock explained with a slight shrug as he looked over to his mother.

Was this normal at Holmes family gatherings? Discussing how a young Sherlock walked in on his parents. John shifted his head slightly on his husband's shoulder and looked down at Amy. In a few years he figured that he and Sherlock might have to be a bit more careful.

"Yes, Sherlock. I know where children come from," Mycroft snapped as he pushed his empty plate away. Lestrade reached over and placed a hand gently on his fiancé's, calming him down fractionally.

"Don't be so embarrassed, John." Harry smirked.

"Oi, Harry, no." John closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, placing several soft kisses against the side of his husband's neck.

"No. I know that you know that. I don't think you are that much of an _idiot_. I am talking about-" Sherlock stopped mid-sentence when his mother interrupted.

"That is enough Sherlock," Nancy said a stern voice.

"But…" Sherlock trailed off, not because he had lost the will to argue but because John was kissing his neck and that pretty much always distracted him from anything.

There. Maybe now they could all sit and relax for a bit. Distracting Sherlock was simple enough. John pulled away and sat back in his chair and glanced at his husband from the corner of his eyes.

Mycroft smirked as Sherlock stopped talking, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Wasn't you, Mycroft," John said softly. "Sherlock, would you mind putting some syrup on my finger?" He held out his right index finger and smiled.

Sherlock ignored Mycroft and he turned to John, an eyebrow arched. Was this going somewhere…sexual? Because he was fairly certain if his husband wanted him to lick that off, he wouldn't be able to stop there. He wouldn't care _who_ was watching. Just the thought made him squirm a bit in the chair. He got lost in his thoughts for a moment, forgetting all about the request.

John chuckled slightly and studied his husband. He knew _exactly_ where the other man's thoughts were. "Sherlock," he whispered with a small shake of his head, reaching across his husband and dipping his finger in the left over syrup on Sherlock's plate. He relaxed in his chair and stuck his finger in his mouth, slowly sucking it off. Now he was just bored.

"John," Mrs. Hudson said with a knowing smile.

His name being spoken brought Sherlock out of his thoughts. He returned his attention to John and smirked. Would it be rude if they just left now?

Nancy sighed. "I suppose you will wanting to be going back home then?" When they left, she would be alone again.

Sherlock looked over to his mother, a thoughtful frown on his lips. His gaze drifted over to his older brother. "Mycroft a word?" He got up out of his chair and began leaving the room, without waiting for an answer.


	15. Chapter 15

Mycroft stood almost instantly. It seemed the two would get along if Mum was involved. He followed after Sherlock quickly, coming to his younger brother's side right as they left the dining hall. "When are you two leaving?" He asked softly.

John watched Sherlock for a moment before standing and walking over to Nancy. "I think Amy misses her Grandma," he said softly as he handed the sleeping infant over. He crouched next to Nancy's chair and rested a hand at the center of her back.

"Well, we wanted to leave today. Apparently John has plans for me tonight." Sherlock smirked but it faded as he became serious. "Has…Mummy talked to you? She has been…emotional the last couple days…it's worrisome…"

Nancy smiled and took Amy. She continued to smile, as she looked down at the sleeping infant fondly. "I always wanted to have grand kids," she admitted softly. "And Grandma is going to spoil you, yes I am."

Mycroft shook his head and licked his lips with a small sigh. "She hasn't talked to me," he replied softly before clearing his throat. "She has talked to your husband." He looked at his younger brother and frowned. "Should we sit down with her tonight? Could you and John just hold off and stay another night? Mum needs us, Sherlock."

"Do you hear that, Amy?" John smiled as the little girl slowly opened her eyes, spitting out her pacifier to yawn. "I couldn't have picked a better grandparent, Nancy." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him with a warm smile.

"I know she has, even without John telling me, it was pretty obvious." Sherlock thought for a moment. "What would we talk about? 'Hey Mum, Dad is dead. Get over it.' Not like that of course. She is a proud, strong and stubborn. Will she even want to talk to us? Comforting others isn't something I am particularly good at it…not even for John at times. It is hard seeing her like this though."

"Look who is awake. Why you are beautiful girl. You are allowed to stay with me anytime you want and as long as you want and Grandma wouldn't mind one bit." Nancy continued to smile down at Amy, but her head rested on John's arm.

"Get her to just...talk." Mycroft shrugged slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just ask her to open up. Tell us what is on her mind. About Dad." He lifted his gaze to his younger brother. "Share memories. Help her move on a bit."

John smiled and ran his hand up and down Nancy's arm soothingly. Amy pressed her feet into Nancy's arm with a small gurgle, her hands curling into fists as she stretched slightly. Her eyes adjusted slowly and she locked her gaze on Nancy. "Look at that," he whispered, lifting his free arm and gently tickling her stomach with his index finger.

Sherlock shrugged as well. "I guess." He really didn't know what to do, but he recognized that _something_ should be done. He couldn't help but wonder if before John, he would have noticed or even bothered trying to help.

Nancy continued talking to Amy, happy to have a distraction. "You are a very lucky girl, young lady. You have a family who loves you so much. And I am certain I won't be the only person who spoils you."

"Thank you." Mycroft managed a smile toward his younger brother and turned back into the dining hall. The moment he crossed the threshold, he froze. There was his Mum resting against John and looking at Amy like she was the most precious thing in the world. "Sherlock," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder and grinning.

Amy's eyes shifted to her father momentarily as he tickled her but darted instantly back to Nancy. She lifted a hand and shakily touched the woman's cheek, curling her fingers before letting her arm drop. John just grinned and turned his head to look at Nancy. "Thank you."

"John makes it look so easy," Sherlock muttered, as he came to stand next to his older brother. It wasn't resentment, merely amazement. Normal people could do extraordinary things, he realized.

Nancy finally glanced over to John. "For what Dear?" She bounced Amy in her arms lightly.

"Sometimes I realize what a great man you married." Mycroft said with a small sigh. He wished he had been able to help their mother like John was.

"For being a Mum to me," John admitted softly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. What else could he say? The woman resting against him had taken him in and shown him what family could be, what a _real_ family looked like.

"Yes, John…he is a good man. The great sex is just a perk." Sherlock gave a smirk to Mycroft.

Nancy smiled up at John. "Of course. You are a good boy. Although, you and Sherlock get into more trouble than anyone I have ever known. You make my baby boy happy. He needed that in his life. So, thank you."

"I would say that I didn't need to hear that but we've all heard him." Mycroft smiled and finally moved into the dining room. He took his seat next to Lestrade, who was watching Nancy, John, and Amy with a soft smile.

John placed a soft kiss on Nancy's temple before standing up and looking at Sherlock. They couldn't leave tonight. Nancy needed them more than he needed a shag. He moved forward with hesitation and pulled Sherlock into a hug, burying his face into his husband's chest.

Sherlock smirked at his older brother, as the other man walked away. He returned John's hug, resting his head on top of his husband's. He reached a hand up to go through his partner's hair. "Mycroft and I are going to stay another night. If you don't want to, I'll understand." He watched his mother, holding little Sandi with a small smile.

"I'll stay," John muttered against Sherlock's chest. "I think Amy is cheering her up. I can't take that away from her." He lifted his head slightly, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. "Wouldn't mind just cuddling with you in bed tonight anyway." He let his head fall back on to Sherlock's chest as he relaxed further against his husband. "You are doing really well. I am proud of you."

Sherlock smiled and nodded, watching his mother and little Sandi for a bit. She did seem happy with Amy in her arms. She had always wanted grand kids and now she was given the chance. He removed his head from John's head to look down at him with raised eyebrows. "Proud of me? What amazing thing have I done now?" He smirked at his husband, his fingers still running through his partner's hair lightly.

"You are staying to take care of your Mum. You wouldn't have done that a year ago, Sherlock." John smiled softly. A small shiver shot through his body at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair. Christ, his husband's touch was wonderful. "I wouldn't mind a massage tonight," he muttered, standing on his toes to press a light kiss against Sherlock's lips. "I am really tense. Could you manage that?"

Sherlock gave a slight shrug, perhaps John was right. "That depends, are you going to get turned on and moan at every little touch?" The smirk returned as he looked down at his husband. "Did you want to see more of the place? You haven't even seen half of it, yet. Unless there was something else you had in mind?" In his opinion there wasn't a lot to do here, other than walk around and keep yourself busy.

"Possibly. But it will be good moaning and I promise it will end well for you in the future." John smiled and turned slightly in Sherlock's arms. Nancy had Amy, Harry and Mrs. Hudson were engaged in what seemed to be a rather entertaining conversation and...Mycroft and Lestrade were already gone. "I would love to see some more. Your room?" He grinned and pulled out of Sherlock's arms, lacing their fingers together. "Show me the way, Young Master Holmes."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk further at John. He began leading them out of the room. "Of course Johnny." He gave his husband's hand a gentle squeeze and then led them up the third floor and took the hallway on the opposite side that had been reserved for them. They entered the last room on the left. It was clean. The bed made perfectly. Not a speck of dust. There was an uncluttered desk with a small lamp against the wall, opposite of the bed. One book case, empty, stood on another wall. There was a dresser along the other wall, with a closet door next to it. "Nothing exciting. Growing up, servants came in all day long to make it sure it stayed like this. Well, the book shelf used to have books on it. And there used to be a microscope and computer on the desk, but other than that…pretty much the same. Very dull and _not_ me."

John looked at the room with his mouth ajar, glancing up at his husband and shaking his head. "It's _huge_ ," he stated. "It is like three of my rooms put together, Sherlock. This must have been wonderful." He tugged Sherlock into the room with a large smile. "I mean, you must have had room for everything." After a long pause and a sigh he turned to his husband, gently meeting his lips and moving his good hand to tangle in his hair.

Sherlock shrugged. "I never really spent any time in here..." He wasn't particularly fond of the room and it held no real pleasant memories for him. His reveries were interrupted when John kissed him. He returned it, embracing his husband in a hug.

Good. Kissing. John deepened it with a small moan, his tongue exploring his husband's mouth. He backed Sherlock up to the bed and gently pushed him to sit, straddling him as he finally pulled away for air. "God, I love you." He tilted his head and nipped at bus husband's ear, pausing to suck at it as he gently pressed his hips into Sherlock's stomach.

Sherlock sat down on the bed, pressing back into John with a whimper of desire. "Love you too," he breathed into his husband's neck. He began sucking on the skin with an excited growl. His fingers scratched at the tux, a soft moan escaping his lips.

John gasped. He wasn't sure how much more abuse his neck could take but Sherlock's mouth was wonderful. "Don't have anything," he said through a moan, shamelessly pressing into his husband's scratches. Even Sherlock had to know that touring the manor was going to end with them in a room together. He could barely control himself and he was sure that getting off in their tuxedos would be the best thing ever. "Stop being so damn irresistible."

Sherlock removed his mouth from John and looked up at him. "We can stop if you want, we have been going at it practically nonstop since we got married. Not that I am complaining mind you." He smirked a bit, a hand coming up to thread through his husband's hair. "What do you want to do my dear doctor?"

"I just want to be with you," John said softly as he pressed their foreheads together. "Because I can't believe that I get to spend the rest of my life with you. I just want to constantly be with you." He bit his bottom lip and blushed at the admission. "And tonight I can't wait to just sleep in the same bed as you and snuggle with my _husband_."

"Do you want the massage now?" Sherlock asked, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. He kissed John's nose. He kept their heads together, enjoying the closeness of his husband. He moved a hand to his partner's hair once more, enjoying the soft bristles on his fingers.

Oh, the massage. John smiled slightly and nodded. "Please. God, that sounds wonderful." He shifted slightly and placed a quick kiss on his husband's lips before maneuvering on the bed to sit next to Sherlock. He managed to get out of his jacket, vest and shirt on his own, stubbornly tossing them on the floor before twisting to lay on his stomach. He grinned at Sherlock and buried his face into his arms. "Do you want me to give you one when we are done?"

Sherlock took off his own jacket and vest. He also took off the tie and undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt. "I have never had one before...or given one. But I am sure I can figure it out." He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and finally straddled John. "Any area in particular you want worked on, or just your whole back." He cracked the knuckles in his fingers to help loosen them up.

"Just...be careful of my shoulder, yeah?" John tensed slightly at the feeling of Sherlock above him, sucking in a quick breath and forcing himself to calm down. Was he going to be able to make it through the massage? He pressed his face into the pillow with a low groan and tensed the muscles in his upper back. Just the anticipation of Sherlock's hands on him sent a small shiver down his spine.

Sherlock reviewed basic anatomy in his mind before, his fingers began probing John's lower back and looking for any knots or muscles bunched together. When he found a rough spot, he began applying pressure and moving his fingers in small circles. "If it hurts too much let me know. Although it will probably be a bit unpleasant for awhile until I can work out the tension."

Holy... "Oh, God." John went limp almost instantly against the mattress and let out another groan. It was so unfair that Sherlock could pick everything up as simply as he did. This was the best massage he had ever had. "Bloody wonderful." He turned his head to the side and rested against the pillow, mouth open as he took several shallow breaths. "Don't stop."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently he was doing a good job so far, he had been uncertain about his skills at first but that quickly vanished. He continued to knead the same spot, this time with a bit more confidence, until he felt the tension leave and then began looking for another spot that was in need of the same attention.

"Below my left shoulder blade," John said breathlessly, swallowing hard and grasping the pillow beneath his hand. Perfect. This was wonderful. "If this whole detective thing doesn't work out then you have a job in the massage business. Christ, Sherlock." He arched slightly into his husband's touch and let out a content sigh. "Might have to shag you tomorrow as repayment."

"It is really just basic anatomy John," Sherlock commented as he moved his fingers up the his husband's left shoulder blade and began working on it immediately. "And you and I both know that you will shag me tomorrow anyway. Payment or not. Because let's face it, I am just so 'amazing' and 'perfect' you can't stay away." He smirked even though John couldn't see it.

This was almost better than an orgasm. _Almost_. John gasped and let out a low moan of pleasure, his body tensing for a moment. "When I shag you tomorrow I am going to do it against the windo-" Another moan, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to control himself. "Against the windows," he finished breathlessly.

"Jesus John, it's just a massage." Sherlock wasn't even really trying that hard but his husband seemed to be enjoying it, so who was he to argue? "Against the windows? Really? Are you going to be the one against the window?" He was most certainly intrigued and thrilled by this prospect, his fingers applying a little more pressure in excitement.

John managed a small shake of his head against the pillow and smirked. "No. You. For all of Baker Street to see," he paused and took a slow, measured breath. "Unless you want me against the window." He lifted his hips from the bed slightly and pressed into Sherlock. He felt the pressure of Sherlock's hands change and let out an appreciative moan.

"Oh no, if we are doing it against the window it's going to be _you._ " Sherlock nodded after he spoke, as if reaffirming his words. Ever since they had talked about it that night after their little game of who could hold out the longest, he had been wanting to try it. Only John hadn't seem interested or eager about doing it, so he'd just never brought it up again. But here they were now, talking about it. It wasn't a secret fantasy per se, but it was most certainly something he had wanted to try out.

John nodded in agreement without a second thought because, _Christ_ , those hands were wonderful. "Yeah. Okay." He hissed slightly as he felt some pain shoot through his right shoulder and wiggled under his husband's touch. Of course. Anything nice couldn't be enjoyed for too long. He took a deep breath and whimpered. Shit, he had just agreed to let Sherlock fuck him against the window of their flat.

Really? In his exhilaration, Sherlock continued to add more pressure with his fingers to John's body without much thought. Now all he could think about was being back at their flat. Damn it. He had just agreed to stay a day longer too with his mother. That meant he'd have to wait before it happened. He sighed wistfully and finally came back to reality. Had he just hurt John? "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, 'S fine." John relaxed against the mattress with a small whimper. "Just...my shoulder. Sorry." He took a hesitant breath and twitched when more pain shot through his injured shoulder. "Ah, shit. Must have slept on it wrong or something." He glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye. "You a bit excited?" He asked with a forced laugh.

Sherlock frowned a bit. "Do you want me to stop?" Even as he finished asking the question, his fingers came to a halt. "Actually, yeah…I suppose I am. It is something I have wanted to try but you hadn't seemed to keen on it so I never brought it up. But you did, so…" He gave a slight shrug of his slender shoulders.

"I want to make you happy," John said softly, shifting and twisting so he ended up on his back underneath his husband. "What time is the talk with your Mum? I want to nap but I can't sleep without you." A hand moved to run softly up and down Sherlock's stomach. "You have become quite the necessary sleeping item for me, Sherlock Holmes."

"John, you do make me happy." Sherlock moved to lay down next to his husband, snuggling into his partner immediately. "I'm not sure. Not until tonight I don't think. After dinner probably, if I had to guess. You can nap now if you want." He wasn't tired but he would lay next to John if it meant the other man would actually sleep.

"Okay," John whispered as he wrapped a hand around Sherlock's shoulders. Sleep. He was exhausted and it seemed that if Sherlock was next to him he didn't have nightmares. It was mental, really, but John couldn't help it. "Wake me up in an hour," he demanded softly before closing his eyes. His last thought was of his husband, a weak smile on his face.

Sherlock rested his head on John's good shoulder, his arm coming to rest across his husband's stomach. "No nightmares my dear doctor," he whispered quietly into the other man's ear. The talk with his mother. He was suddenly dreading it. What were they going to say to her? He honestly had no clue. Maybe Mycroft had come up with something. Hopefully. He went over several possible scenarios in his head, and he lost track of time.

John woke up slowly, groaning for a small moment before he remembered Sherlock. His husband. "Oi, my back." He grinned sleepily and yawned. "Feels good." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. It had been two hours but he'd slept...Sherlock had lost track of time. "Ignore my hard-on," he stated with a small chuckle. "What are you thinking about over there?"

Sherlock had lost himself so deeply in thought that he hadn't even realized John had woken up until finally the question proposed to him finally registered. He blinked and his eyes focused clearly on his husband. "Just trying to figure out the best way to approach Mummy about things is all. Can't really think of anything fitting though…"

Oh. Right. Nancy. He had gone through this before. Granted, he was younger. "When I lost my Dad," he cleared his throat. "Mum just wanted to talk about him. Memories. How we were." He bit his bottom lip. "Sometimes you don't even have to talk, Sherlock. Just...listening. It will be good enough." He lifted his hand and reached across his body, pushing some unruly curls off of Sherlock's forehead. "Imagine losing me." He twisted his mouth to the side. "Wouldn't you just want somebody to listen? To help remember? That is all your Mum wants."

Sherlock was about to nod at what John said, but stopped himself when he heard the last words spoken. Never. He didn't even want to think about it. Maybe it was because in the last year and a half he had almost lost his dear doctor on multiple occasions. When John had been close to death, he hadn't wanted _anyone_ around. Though he supposed normal people needed comfort. Something he wasn't used to giving.

Not the best example, then. "Your Mum is a strong woman, I don't doubt that at all." He placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "But sometimes even the strongest people just need support. It is your job to help her out." He smiled softly and yanked him closer to his side. "Do you miss him at all?" John asked slowly, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment. "I mean, he raised you."

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together in thought for a moment. He couldn't help the harsh laugh that escaped from him at John's question. "I really wouldn't call what father did as raising me." He didn't bother hiding the bitterness he felt. "But, no, I don't miss him. Not happy about it either, but the bastard had it coming if you ask me. I guess I just really don't care either way."

Oh. How did one reply to that? John had been young when he had lost his father and he missed the man. Then again, this was Sherlock. "Just, be there for your Mum? She needs you right now, Sherlock." He let out a slow yawn at the end of the sentence. "Did your Mum raise you, then? Or just...I don't know, a nanny or something?"

"It doesn't really matter," Sherlock muttered. He didn't like talking about his childhood. Sure he had grown up privileged but it wasn't pleasant. He shifted away from John a bit, turning his back to his husband. He had done everything he could to forget, it was why he had started drugs to begin with.

John narrowed his eyes for a moment and studied Sherlock's back. Did he leave Sherlock like that? Let him just sulk it out? "I'm sorry," he whispered, turning on his side to press his chest against his husband's back. One arm moved to wrap protectively around Sherlock's stomach. "I didn't...Sorry..." He placed a kiss on the back of Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock didn't turn to face John, but he did relax into the other man. He brought a hand up and placed it on his husband's. He really didn't feel like talking about it. Not now. Not _ever_. He really wanted a cigarette right now, but he didn't want to leave the comfort of John's presence.

"One day on their pirate ship, Sherlock and John got caught in a storm," John whispered into the back of his husband's neck. "And John fell overboard. He didn't know how to swim and he was scared but Sherlock jumped in and saved him." He placed another kiss against Sherlock's neck. "And once they got back on the ship John realized that he owed Sherlock his life for rescuing him. So he vowed to stay with Sherlock for the rest of his life and do whatever he could to keep him happy."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, and he gave John's hand a squeeze. "I am fine. It was just...difficult to grow up here. At least for me it was..." He trailed off, not really feeling like elaborating past that. He turned to face his husband, his head nestling into his partner's shoulder.

John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock, one hand tangling in his hair. "Shhh..." He kissed the top of his husband's head and took a deep breath. "We live together now so you don't have to worry about any of it." He ran his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock's back. "We have our own home now. Our own family."

Sherlock was quiet once more, snuggling a little more into John. He wasn't tired, but he was comfortable. His eyes closed, as he tried to think about something else. After a long moment he finally spoke. "You know what is funny about that story, I don't actually know how to swim."

John looked down at his husband for a long moment and finally chuckled softly. "You don't? You have never been to a pool or river or anything?" He asked softly, scratching Sherlock's scalp with a grin. "Good thing we have got a private beach to ourselves for the honeymoon. Maybe I can teach you?" He shifted slightly and rolled to push Sherlock on to his back. The man needed to be loved a little. John could do that. He settled himself between Sherlock's legs and placed several soft kiss on his husband's neck, his hands moving to slowly start undoing the buttons of the shirt. "I love you," he whispered.

"The manor has a pool. When I was four, I think, Mycroft tried to teach me to swim. I guess I was annoying him, because he left me alone. I almost drowned. Mum was furious. Even Father. It is the only time I can think of that the Old Man yelled at Mycroft. Anyway, I never went swimming again after that." Sherlock shrugged a bit, his body relaxing from John's touch and kisses.

"I think I will be a good teacher," John replied against Sherlock's neck, his mouth moving to kiss at the newly exposed skin of his husband's chest. "You are beautiful, y'know that?" His voice was soft as he finally unbuttoned the shirt, a hand running gently up Sherlock's stomach and moving to run down his side. "A bloody work of art." His lips moved to the scar running down the center of his chest, lingering there. There was nothing sexual about John's actions. All he was trying to do was calm Sherlock down, let him know he was loved. "I am so blessed to have you."

"I suppose since I taught you how to dance, I will let you teach me how to swim. I can't imagine it is too difficult. Human bodies are naturally buoyant, so as long as I am not panicking and thrashing around like some idiot, I'm sure I'll do fine." Sherlock closed his eyes again, his hands coming to rest behind his head. He smirked a bit. "It is hard work being as good looking and amazing as I am but I manage."

John pulled away from Sherlock's chest with a smirk. "Your ego is huge," he muttered, digging his nails into Sherlock's side briefly. The man sure could take his praise. "Can't you just let me pay attention to you without your cocky little comments?" He asked with a small laugh, lowering himself to place a kiss just above his husband's bellybutton.

Sherlock's smirk got bigger. "I was just agreeing with you my dear doctor." He squirmed into John a little, unable to help himself. Every touch and kiss his husband was giving, gave his skin a prickling sensation and he was enjoying it. He craved more contact, his fingers curling and uncurling in his unruly hair.

"Do it silently. In your head," John said softly into Sherlock's stomach. He lifted himself slightly and moved up his husband's body, tilting his head to place several kisses on the inside of Sherlock's right bicep. The man's body was literally a work of art. Lean and pale but in the most beautiful way. It was hard to understand why he hid it from anybody before him.


	16. Chapter 16

The smirk returned. "John, when have you ever known me to say something in my head when I think of it?" Sherlock tilted his head and opened his eyes to watch his husband. God, he was really turned on right now. He didn't care if they didn't have anything. He had taken without before, he could do it again. "Want you," he admitted softly. He reached a hand down, long fingers trailing through John's hair. "Please?" His partner always liked it when he begged, and if it got him what he wanted right now he would plead some more.

John tilted his head at Sherlock's admission, biting his bottom lip and leaning into his husband's touch. "Are you sure?" He hadn't started this with the intent of sex, but it was obvious that Sherlock wanted it. At this point it was difficult to turn him down. He placed another kiss on the inside of his husband's bicep and relented slightly to Sherlock's begging, reaching down to tug at one of his partner's legs in an attempt to get him to wrap it around John's hips. As he moved to slowly kiss his husband he pressed his hips down in a slow roll, moaning.

"Yes. Please?" Sherlock asked again, a little more anxiously this time. He complied with John immediately with a whimper. He squirmed into the body above him with earnest. His other hand came to wrap around his husband's waist, to pull the other man closer. He continued to trail his fingers through his partner's hair, as he stared up at John.

John hesitated and met Sherlock's gaze. He didn't want to hurt his husband but that was what the man below him wanted. "Wh-What do you want?" He stumbled over his words when he felt Sherlock move beneath him. He shifted himself, grabbing his husband's other leg and wrapping it around his waist with the other one. They had done it in the middle of the night but Sherlock had seemed to like it. He started a slow but strong rhythm with his hips, pressing and rolling against Sherlock's body. Maybe he could get away with this so he wouldn't have to hurt Sherlock.

Sherlock's hand glided from John's hair, down to his husband's cheek and then jaw line. "Want you. Please," he pleaded again. He sounded so needy and desperate, that his own voice surprised him. He knew it would hurt, but he just didn't care. He needed this, although he wasn't entirely certain why. All he knew was the driving desire was there.

Shit. John wanted him too but he _knew_ it would hurt. "O-Okay," he whispered as he turned his head, placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's palm. He arched his back and reached between them, slowly starting to undo his husband's trousers. "Fast or slow?" He asked as he glanced up at his partner. Right now the man beneath him seemed desperate and he had a feeling that he was about to get quite the workout.

At this rate, Sherlock didn't care about the pace. However, perhaps slower would be slightly kinder to his body afterward. Fast and hard might prove too much even for him. "Slow and easy would probably best." His body continued to squirm into John's excitedly, his fingers tracing back up to his husband's hair.

John lifted his head slightly to press into Sherlock's hand, letting out a small moan at the feeling. "You have _got_ to tell me if you need to stop," he stated seriously, glancing up at his husband as his trousers came undone. "Don't keep going if you can't. Please." He yanked at his partner's trousers and underwear, turning to pull Sherlock's shoes off and toss them on the floor. "I'm nervous," he said without look up at his husband, working on his pants.

"I will be fine. We have done it before. If I could handle it then, I can handle it now," Sherlock reassured. He gave a cocky smirk. "I'm a Sex God, remember? So, there is nothing to worry about my dear doctor." His body shivered and he wasn't sure if it was because of his skin coming in contact with the cool air or anticipation.

"You could hardly walk after last time," John reminded him with a raised brow, working out of his own shoes, trousers and underwear. The least he could do was prepare him slightly. He took a deep breath, sticking two fingers in his mouth and sucking on them for a long moment. As he slid the fingers out of his mouth he swallowed hard, lifting himself to his knees. It shouldn't be so scary, he shouldn't be so nervous, but now he just wanted to impress Sherlock. " _You're_ the Sex God. I am just John Watson," he muttered as he pressed his two fingers into Sherlock slowly.

"Yeah, but I am pretty sure that was due to my feet being torn to hell." Sherlock studied John quietly for a moment and then moaned softly when he felt John's fingers enter. "Relax my dear doctor. Besides, since I'm a Sex God I should be able to receive it just as good as I can give it." The smirk returned. He was eager and excited and the waiting was damn near torturous. He didn't want to rush his husband though, the other man was nervous enough already.

John finished preparing Sherlock the best he could, licking the palm of his hand multiple times and stroking his erection to help try and make it a bit slicker. "Okay, Sherlock." He lifted one leg and rested it on his shoulder, pinning the other one between his arm and side. He took a deep breath, meeting his husband's gaze before slowly pushing in, throwing his head back with a loud moan.

Being prepped had been slightly uncomfortable but not painful. But fuck that initial entry always got him. After a few thrusts there would be enough pleasure to counter act the pain. Sherlock dug his fingers into the sheets below him, eyes squeezing tight as he took a sharp intake of air. He rushed out words of reassurance to John, "I'm f-fine."

That reaction was the opposite of fine. Shit. John _knew_ this was a bad idea. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He tensed, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to pull back, to stop so only his tip was inside of his husband. "Sherlock, I'm sorry." A hand moved to grab one of Sherlock's, squeezing it. This had been a horrible idea.

"N-no. Don't stop. Please." Jesus. Was he glutton for punishment? Against his better judgment, Sherlock rocked up into John. Pain and pleasure blurred together and it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. His husband was most certainly right. Walking probably wouldn't be an option for awhile. Maybe he could just lay in bed the rest of the day.

"Oh, God," John shouted as Sherlock moved against him. Too much for him. Too much... _pleasure_. Now he couldn't stop. His hips pressed forward slowly, pulling back and moving again at the same pace. Perfect. This was bloody perfect. In his bliss he nearly forgot that Sherlock was probably in more pain than he was used to during their sexual escapades. "Sorry. Oh, Sherlock, you okay?"

Okay? Nope. Fuck. This had been a terrible idea. Sherlock couldn't tell John that though. Not now. "…'sgood…" He managed to slur out between ragged breaths. God, he was going to be paying for this for at least a few solid hours. Well, more like several hours. He tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on the pleasure but it was proving difficult. To keep his husband distracted he rocked back up into the man above him.

If anybody knew the look of pain it was an Army doctor. "No, you are not," John said through clenched teeth, slowly pulling out of his husband and struggling to breath. Sherlock had been so eager, so turned on. He might as well get his husband off. He lowered himself and took his husband's erection into his mouth, bobbing slowly and keeping a very slow rhythm. He couldn't hurt his husband, even if the man begged for it.

Ordinarily Sherlock would enjoy a blow job, but it was hard to enjoy one at the moment. "John. Stop." There was something he never thought he would say. He supposed this was what he got for being so damned cocky about the whole thing. He didn't remember it being so painful the first time around. His eyes remained closed, but his fingers loosened the grip on the sheets.

John pulled away almost instantly, licking his lips. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, breathing hard and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He swallowed hard and ran a hand down his face. This was not the position he wanted to be in. "I just...I wanted to make you happy. And you asked." Christ, he sounded like a child.

"John it is fine. You told me to tell you stop if it hurt too much. I didn't. No fault but my own." Sherlock remained fairly still, certain that moving would just make things worse right now. He let out a slow breath, trying to concentrate on something else. He settled for reciting the periodic table in atomic order mentally.

Fine. It was far from fine. His husband was barely moving now because he had fucked him like some animal and not cared about him. At this rate he was fairly sure he was never going to shag Sherlock ever again. Sherlock would do all of the shagging from this point on. Period. He shifted slightly and cleared his throat, flopping on to the mattress and pulling Sherlock against him, cradling the man's head against his chest. "I love you."

Usually, Sherlock would have snuggled into John but he had already done enough stupid things for the day and he didn't want to add to the list. "Love you too." Moving an arm. That should be okay. He reached up behind him, blindly moving up his husband's face until he found the other man's hair and began to comb his fingers through it.

What the Hell should John do? Lay there and comfort Sherlock until he could move? _Oh, sorry Nancy. I tried to bum him in his childhood room without any lube and it turns out he can't walk straight. That's why he is late to your little family talk._ Right. She would love him after that. "I have got some drugs packed away in my bag from last night...I could get you something for the pain," he whispered, tensing slightly when he remembered that Sherlock was probably still fighting the last bits of withdraw. "Light stuff. Promise."

Sherlock's whole body tensed at the mention of drugs. " _No_ ," his voice came out gruffer than he had intended. He took a breath, trying to calm himself. No drugs. Never again. No matter what. He couldn't risk it. Another breath and he found his normal voice again. "I'm fine John, just need a few moments is all."

"Okay," John replied weakly, closing his eyes with a small sigh. Wonderful. Sherlock certainly hated him now. The moment in the room had been quiet, wonderful...romantic, even. And then he had ruined it by turning Sherlock on, by listening to the begging and ignoring the very obvious reason why they didn't shag unless they had everything they needed. He hated himself for being so bloody changeable. "If you want to punch me you can."

Sherlock blinked open his eyes in bewilderment and he tilted his head up to stare up at John in utter confusion. "Punch you? Why would I want to do that?" Did his husband think he was upset with him? He wasn't. There was no reason to be, that he could figure. His own misery was his fault, not John's. Did his partner blame himself?

"I hurt you," John stated obviously, narrowing his eyes. It was obvious. "I mean, when I get upset at people my first thought is to land a good one right to their nose. Don't you ever feel like that?" He raised a brow and studied his husband curiously. Honestly, he felt like he was learning new things about the man in his arms, even after they were married.

"I got hurt because of my own stupid arrogance John. If I should be upset at anyone, it should be myself, not you my dear doctor. So, by your own logic I should punch myself. I think though, I have punished myself enough for the day. Don't you?" Sherlock managed a slight smirk up at John. He slid his hand from his husband's hair, and let it trail along his partner's face soothingly.

"Please don't...punch yourself," John said with a laugh, turning to nip at Sherlock's palm. "There is only one person allowed to punch you and it is me. Possibly Amy, but she can't pack quite the punch yet." He grinned and let his other hand splay across his husband's stomach. "Still snuggling tonight, then? I can't wait to hear you talk in your sleep. Sometimes you even answer questions."

"I punched my dad once, but that didn't turn out very well for me," Sherlock reflected with narrowed his eyes. A slight frown etched his lips. "I don't talk in my sleep," he muttered in stubborn denial. After a moment of quiet sulking, he relented. "What do I talk about?" He tilted his head up to look up a John once more.

John had almost asked why in the world Sherlock would have the thought to punch Siger in the face but his question was too good to pass up. "Depends on the night. You once monologued for at least seven minutes about tea and how mad you were that it was too warm." He chuckled at the thought. "Also, you said, at one point, and I quote, that 'the duck in Central Park clearly did it. Look at the stupid little smirk he has.' I laughed for a bit about that one."

"Now you are just making things up," Sherlock muttered. Did he really talk in his sleep? It was strange for him to think about. Dreams were stupid, meaningless. He rarely dreamed, or maybe he did but he just didn't remember them.

"Even I can admit I'm not _that_ creative, Sherlock." John placed a soft kiss on his husband's head and jumped slightly at the knock on the door.

"Sherlock, get dressed. You too, John. It is time for...it..." Mycroft said through the door. "John, Gregory is in the backyard if you two want to drink a beer. Sherlock, Mummy is in the sitting room."

John groaned, not wanting to leave and realizing suddenly that Sherlock might not be ready to leave. "Want some help getting dressed?" He offered softly.

Shit. How late was it? Could it be pushed back a couple hours? They hadn't tried for that long, maybe he would be okay. Sherlock sat up with a groan. The pain would be manageable. He had endured worst. If he could walk quarter of a mile carrying John with a concussion and cracked ribs, he could do this. "I am fine john. Thank you though." He didn't move to get off the bed. He realized his trepidation was because he didn't want to have this conversation, and not because of the pain.

John watched Sherlock for along moment before climbing over him, picking up his own boxers and slipping them on before grabbing Sherlock's underwear. "Here," he muttered, shifting to tug them over his husband's feet. Sherlock could be as stubborn as he wanted but John was still going to help him. He moved around the room and picked up his husband's tuxedo in separate pieces. "Here." He set everything on the bed and smiled, placing a quick kiss on Sherlock's lips before turning to find the rest of his own tuxedo.

Sherlock sat staring at the clothes sitting next to him thoughtfully. He wasn't sure he could this. Maybe he could ask John to go instead. His husband had already talked to his Mum. She would probably respond better to his partner than him. He sighed to himself and finally began putting the tuxedo on carefully.

John pulled his trousers on and turned to look at his husband. "It is going to be fine, Sherlock," he whispered with a smile. "Just be there for her. Do you know how you are just there for me after my nightmares? Like that." He slipped his shirt over his shoulders and started to button it. "And tonight I will take good care of you, help you sleep."

Sherlock merely nodded and once he was fully dressed, he stood up gingerly. Last day to wear the tuxedo. With any luck, it wouldn't be required to wear one at Mycroft's wedding. "I think I am going to be walking sideways for a week." He gave a slight smirk to John and then opened the door.

John winced at Sherlock's words, pulling the rest of his tuxedo on and following him. "I kind of forgot how much pain you must have been in for a few moments," he admitted softly, reaching down to grab his husband's hand.

"Great. Wonderful." Mycroft glanced between the two of them and then down the hall. "First floor. Sitting room." He bit his bottom lip and moved to the end of the hall and down the stairs.

"I will walk you down there," John whispered as he squeezed his husband's hand. "You can do that."

Sherlock returned the squeeze of John's hand and then followed after Mycroft. He took the stairs slowly, relying on his husband and the railing more than he would have liked. When they reached the sitting room, he slumped into the nearest chair. He glanced up at John. "Enjoy the time with _Gregory_." He gave his partner's hand one final squeeze and then turned his attention to his mother.

John smiled a bit and giggled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Love you." He left the room and headed toward the backyard.

"Mum." Mycroft licked his lips and smiled softly at Nancy. "Sherlock and I were discussing the fact that...Dad..." He closed his eyes for a long moment.

"What Mycroft is trying to say, Father's death is affecting you more than you are trying to let on," Sherlock continued on for his older brother.

"Of course your father's death is affecting me, but I am fine." Nancy smiled at her boys.

"No you aren't," Sherlock stated a little more flatly than intended. "Mum, we can tell. Talk to us."

"I'm fine," Nancy repeated but this time she didn't look at them. Her sons were smart. Observant. But emotionally detached like their father, it was why she had tried to keep it from them. She had always prided herself on being a strong woman. She didn't want her sons to see her like this, because she worried they wouldn't know what to do. Yet here they were. Perhaps they had grown up more than she realized. A small smile spread her lips, proud of her boys in this moment and she finally lifted her head to look at them.

Mycroft dropped his head for a moment and couldn't help but smile. Sherlock was really stepping up. He met his Mum's gaze and smiled for a long moment. "Please just tell is what we can do," he said softly. "We just want to help you, Mummy. We both moved on without realizing what you were going through. We feel horrible."

"I don't think there is anything you can do." Nancy gave a slight smile. "I think I just got a little overwhelmed with things. Siger died. And then Sherlock got kidnapped by the same men who killed your father. I was so worried I was going to lose a son too. Three days, Sherlock. You were gone three days..." She trailed off, looking down once more. "I guess it finally just all caught up with me..."

Oh. It was more than just the Old Man dying. Sherlock was at a loss for words for a moment. "I'm fine Mum. Right here." Be there for her, John's words repeated in his head. With a slight grimace he got up from the chair and moved to the couch and sat down next to his mother. He reached out a hand tentatively, took hers and gave it a squeeze.

Mycroft tensed. It was everything that happened so close to each other. Dad. Sherlock. Without even realizing it he stood and moved to the other side of his Mum, taking her other hand. Comfort. It was the least they could do now. "We are all here, Mum." He placed a kiss on her temple. "You have got four sons now and a darling of a granddaughter." He glanced at Sherlock and smiled a bit. "You have got a family still."

"Yes. Four wonderful boys. And a beautiful granddaughter." Nancy nodded. She was quiet a moment. "I have been thinking of moving out," she admitted softly.

Nothing short of shock rocked Sherlock. _Leave_? That...was absurd. No words this time. He looked up to Mycroft, his eyes furrowed in consternation.

What? Mycroft met Sherlock's gaze and couldn't help the small shake of his head. No. This was... _their_ home. The Holmes Manor. Where they were raised. He knew nothing else. "Mum, where would you go?" He asked softly, squeezing her hand. At this point he was desperate. "Gregory and I could...move in..." He closed his eyes for a long moment but decided to go on with it. "You wouldn't be so alone."

Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. The manor would stay in the family still. I just don't know if I can stay here anymore." She fell quiet at her oldest son's last statement. "I wouldn't want to be an imposition to you boys."

Sherlock maintained his silence. His mind was still trying to process his mother _moving_. That would be like if Mrs. Hudson left Baker Street. The sheer notion was inconceivable.

Mycroft shook his head frantically. "It will be fine. Lestrade has barely moved into my flat. I am sure he wouldn't mind." He studied his younger brother for a moment and took a deep breath. He had to convince his Mum to stay. "Would that help?"

Nancy hesitated and then nodded. "Okay, but only if you want to. I don't want you to feel like you have to move in Dear."

Sherlock finally spoke, "Well, we will need a babysitter for little Sandi when we finally start taking cases again after the honeymoon. So, we'll be coming to see you multiple times a week. That is, if you wouldn't mind watching her?"

"Of course not! I would love to watch Amy. Anytime Dear." Nancy smiled at her sons. "You are good boys. Your father would be proud, of both of you."

Mycroft smiled slightly and pulled Nancy into a quick hug. "It won't be a problem at all Mum. We would be happy to be here." He paused and took a deep breath. "We have even started looking into adoption." The words were out faster than he could reign them in. They hadn't really told anybody else. "A little boy." He added softy.

"Mycroft, that is wonderful!" Nancy exclaimed with a clap of her hands. A genuine smile lit her face and she hugged her eldest son again.

Sherlock wasn't surprised by the news at all. He figured it would be coming sooner or later. He had seen the envy in his older brother's eyes the day at the hospital when little Sandi had been born.

"Oi, stop crying." John's voice carried through into the sitting room along with Amy's loud cries. They drifted away as he continued to pace around the manor and rock his daughter in an attempt to calm her down.

"Gregory...we both wanted to have your blessing to name him Siger," Mycroft said into her shoulder, tensing as he said it. They had discussed it and both agreed, but only if Nancy was okay with it.

Nancy gave a wry smile. "You want to name the poor boy Siger? Yes, of course it would be okay." She put her hand on Mycroft's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Sherlock didn't feel like he was really needed anymore and he excused himself. He hobbled up the stairs with some difficulty, but eventually made it to the room he stayed in with John last night. He sank onto the bed with a sigh.

John paced their wing of the third floor before hearing a door shut. Sherlock. Well, at least Amy had stopped crying. He entered their room quietly and smiled at his husband. "Hi," he whispered with a smile, moving toward the bed and sitting on it slowly. "How did it go?" He asked as he leaned over to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock looked up at John when he entered the room. He gave a smile and a nod. "Fine. Mycroft and Lestrade are going to move into the manor. They are also going to adopt. A boy. Want to call him Siger."

"Oh? Well, good on them." John smiled a bit and shifted, resting against the headboard and cradling Amy against his chest. "Amy, you are going to have a little friend," he whispered, his hand resting protectively on her back as he kissed her head. "How are you doing?" He asked softly, turning his head to look at his husband.

"A little better," Sherlock admitted. "Just going to take it easy for the rest of the night." He laid out on the bed, his hands coming to rest behind his head. He wasn't tired, but he certainly wasn't up to do anything else. It would be a boring night but he really didn't have any other options at the moment.

"I am okay with that," John muttered, keeping his gaze locked on his husband. "Once I put her down I can give you a massage. Don't I owe you?" He smiled and reached out and ran his fingers lightly up and down Sherlock's inner bicep. He just wanted the other man to relax, be happy.

A massage? Sherlock had never had one before. Then again, he hadn't done or said a lot of things before meeting John. Strange how one person could change so much in just one other person's life. "Yeah, sure. That would be good." For as cocky and confident as he came across, he was constantly stressed about something lately. Perhaps a massage wouldn't be too bad after all.

John stood up slowly, holding Amy close to his chest. "Take your shirt off. Roll on your stomach," he whispered. He and Lestrade had moved a crib into the room. He set her down slowly, moving a small stuffed dog closer to her before turning to his husband. After a long moment he started pulling his tuxedo off, slipping on a pair of pajama bottoms. "Do you wanna tell me why you are so stressed?" He asked softly.

"Yes, Sir." Sherlock replied half seriously, but removed his shirt anyway. He rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands. "I am not stressed," he muttered. Of course he was, but he didn't want John to know. Even if the other man had figured it out. Was it that his husband just knew him so well now, or was he just becoming transparent altogether?

John rolled his eyes and climbed on to the bed, moving to straddle Sherlock. "You don't have to tell me why you are stressed." He bent and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's ear. "But don't lie to me." He sat up and placed his hands under each of his husband's shoulder blades, working his fingers into the tension. "But I'm always here to talk."

Sherlock was about to reply when he felt John's fingers in his back. Christ. That felt wonderful. Not in a sexual way. No. This was a different feeling, but it was glorious. His body automatically relaxed into his husband's touch but there were still areas that had knotted together and needed to be rubbed out. "This is good. Thank you." He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation on his back.

John couldn't help but smile softly, moving his hands up to Sherlock's neck. Maybe later, then. After his husband was relaxed and they were just laying in bed, then maybe he could get Sherlock to talk. His hands moved slowly again, down to Sherlock's lower back.

Sherlock wasn't tired but this could very well put him to sleep. Every once in awhile he would grunt when John came across a particularly tense area, but it didn't take long for his husband's fingers to work their magic and ebb the pain. His eyes remained closed and his body was practically limp at this point.

"There," John whispered with a smile. He bent at the waist and placed a kiss at the base of Sherlock's neck. His husband was the most relaxed he had ever seen him. Wonderful. He slid away from Sherlock and collapsed on the bed next to him, keeping a hand on his lower back and lightly drawing shapes. "Good then?"

"Mmm." Sherlock replied, and for a little while longer he stayed in the same position. Eventually, he rolled back over onto his back and he snuggled into John. He placed his head on his husband's good shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this relaxed and content.


	17. Chapter 17

John wrapped an arm around his husband and pulled him closer. "Tell me why you are stressed," he whispered against the top of his head. While a massage had relaxed Sherlock to the point of practically being a bean bag, talking would probably help him to the point of sleep. "I want to help."

Sherlock was quiet a long moment. "Everything. I worry about _everything_. It is ridiculous of course, because most of the things I worry about I have no control over." He shrugged. "It's stupid really and entirely illogical. Yet, I can't seem to stop myself. It's…annoying…" He grumbled the last part, his bottom lip puckering in a pout. He had never had the problem of worrying before, but it had all snowballed on him the moment he saw John strapped to that bomb.

In that moment John wanted to take every horrid moment in Sherlock's life, find who was responsible, and give them a good punch to the nose. This was his husband, the man he vowed to protect for the rest of his life. "Take a deep breath," he whispered, pulling away slightly to meet Sherlock's gaze. "In through your nose and out through your mouth." His hand raked through his husband's hair.

"I worry about you and little Sandi the most," Sherlock admitted quietly. He sighed. The moment of relaxation had been short lived and he sat up on the bed, resting against the headboard. Thinking about it, had stressed him out all over again. A cigarette sounded lovely right about now.

Shit. John watched his husband for moment before sitting up himself. "Sorry," he muttered with a small sigh. It seemed that, recently, he couldn't do anything right for Sherlock. "I love you, Sherlock. And I know...I know since Afghanistan that I have worried you more than enough but we are fine now. All of us. A family." He licked his lips and cleared his throat. He moved slowly before snuggling into his husband's side, his hand resting across Sherlock's stomach.

"Yes, but for how long? How long before something else happens? It is only a matter of time really. Whether it be another member of Moriarty's web, or some criminal I have pissed off." For a very brief moment Sherlock considered giving up being a consulting detective. No. _Never_. He was too stubborn to do that. He wouldn't let fear rule his life. His head tilted to rest against John's and he relaxed marginally.

"For the rest of our lives," John whispered. "I will make sure we are all safe. You will solve crimes and do what you love. I'll work at the surgery and come home and we'll be a family." He smiled softly as he felt his husband relax. "Believe me. I am here. I won't let anything happen to you or Amy." He tilted his head slightly and placed a kiss on his husband's bare chest. "I promise."

Sherlock smirked faintly. "You can't promise that John. Things can and _will_ happen. They always do. I just need to stop worrying about things I can't change, but I am not entirely sure how to go about that." He reached up a hand and began running his fingers through his husband's hair. Normalcy. Routine. Stay grounded. Stay in reality. It was the only thing he could think of to do to help right now.

"Ignore it," John whispered with a smile. "I know it is difficult for you but just focus on your family. Focus on our honeymoon," his voice dropped at the last word and he looked up with a raised brow. "Me teaching you how to swim, shagging on our private beach." His eyes closed at the thought. "I need to sleep. Amy's going to wake up in a few hours to be fed." He placed another kiss on Sherlock's chest. "Get some sleep?"

"I can't believe I agreed to let you teach me to swim," Sherlock snorted. He was sure he would do fine, but accepting help or being taught things was difficult for him to do. "I slept last night, _twice_. I am fine. I will get up and feed little Sandi, so you can sleep longer." He smiled, his fingers still splaying through John's hair.

"Mmmm, perfect husband _and_ father." John smiled and chuckled. "How did I get so lucky?" He let his hand run gently up and down Sherlock's chest. "I owe you, then." He stretched his body slightly, letting out a content sigh. "I love you," he whispered as he pushed his head against his husband's shoulder, his breathing slowly evening out as he fell asleep.

John had been asleep for two hours when Amy stirred in her crib, lifting a hand before letting out a small cry. After a few moments she cried again, a bit louder. John stirred slightly against Sherlock, blearily opening one eye and shifting to slowly move off the bed.

Sherlock smiled and watched John sleep for awhile. Amy crying took a moment for him to register because he was lost in thought. His husband stirring next to him brought him back to the present and he put a gentle restraining hand on his partner. "I'll get her my dear doctor. Go back to sleep." He got up off the bed and moved over to the crib and picked up little Sandi. "Hey Baby Girl. Are you hungry? I bet you are. Let us go get you something, shall we?"

John grumbled something and burrowed back into the bed with a yawn. Without Sherlock's body heat he yanked the blankets roughly over his head.

Amy cried again as Sherlock picked her up, her hands clenched into fists as she squirmed. It took a few moments before she stopped, blinking her red eyes multiple times as she looked up at Sherlock. She let out a small whimper and squirmed again.

Sherlock left the room quietly, rocking little Sandi in his arms. He went down the stairs carefully and moved down the halls to the kitchen. He readied a bottle and then offered it to Amy. "Here you go Baby Girl. Made especially for you." He continued to rock the infant his arms, watching her with a small smile.

Amy latched on to the bottle with a small noise of contentment. She sucked eagerly, swallowing loudly and keeping her gaze locked on Sherlock.

"She is quite the loud eater." Lestrade smiled a bit and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. "I hope ours isn't that loud." He chuckled and sat in a chair opposite of the consulting detective, watching Amy curiously.

Sherlock smirked as he glanced up to Lestrade. "She is loud like her Daddy." The smirk got bigger as he raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to adopt or get a surrogate mother?" He asked curiously. He moved over to a stool by the breakfast nook and sat down. He glanced down to little Sandi once more, continually rocking her.

Lestrade couldn't help but chuckle as he opened the bottle of water, studying Sherlock as he took a few drinks. "Mycroft talked about a surrogate mother," he said softly, setting the bottle down with a shrug. "But I didn't want the kid to have just one of our genes, y'know? So we are adopting. Better to save a kid a put him in a good home than bring another one into the world." He looked up at Sherlock. "And he was adamant about having a boy. This way we know for sure we are getting one," he added softy.

Sherlock nodded a bit. Right. He hadn't had that option. At least Mycroft and Lestrade got to choose to be parents. No, he couldn't think like that. Little Sandi was still his daughter. "You are going to have a younger cousin Baby Girl. Won't that be fun? You will get to tell him what to do." He gave the Detective Inspector a slight smirk.

Lestrade dropped his head for a moment and smiled. "I am sure our little boy will just _love_ that." He lifted his gaze and watched Amy for a long moment. That was going to be him soon. "Do you like being a Dad?" He asked slowly, looking at Sherlock. It was clear he was a bit nervous.

Sherlock hadn't really thought about that question until Lestrade had asked it. He took a moment to seriously consider it. "Uh…yes…I guess I do. I didn't think I would or that I would be good at it. I suppose whether or not I will be a good father has yet to remain seen. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I have read a lot of books on children and being a parent, but I still feel overwhelming under prepared."

"I think you are doing a wonderful job, if it helps." Lestrade smiled and stood up slowly, moving toward Sherlock and Amy. "You will be a wonderful Dad, Sherlock. You already care for her so well." He stopped in front of them and took a deep breath. "I am going to go to bed. Thank you." He cleared his throat, grabbed his bottle of water, and moved out of the kitchen.

Sherlock raised his eyes. He wasn't sure what he had done for Lestrade but all right then. He glanced down at little Sandi. "Well, that was an interesting talk with Uncle Lestrade wasn't it?" When Amy finished the bottle, he put it on the counter, picked up a towel and then burped her on the way back up the stairs. "Are you tired Baby Girl? Or do you want to stay up with your Old Man?"

Amy opened her mouth and let out a small squeak, a hand curling against Sherlock's bare chest. She yawned and twisted in his arms before looking up at him.

John shifted in the bed with a groan, popping his head out from under the blankets for some fresh air. Well, at least he got some sleep. He curled into the blankets with a yawn and sighed, waiting for Sherlock to come back with Amy.

Sherlock smiled down at little Sandi and walked back into the room. He saw John awake and shook his head. "Looks like you take after both dads Baby Girl." He smirked and sat down on the bed near his husband. "You should be sleeping my dear doctor." He leaned over and kissed his partner on the top of the head.

"So should you," John replied sleepily. He studied his husband and daughter with a yawn. "Sorry, should have gotten up to feed her," he mumbled into his pillow, reaching up in an attempt to flatten his hair. Amy wiggled in Sherlock's arms and let out a small noise, a hand lifting to tap at his jaw aimlessly.

"I don't sleep often, you know that. And I told you I would get her." Sherlock smiled and looked down at little Sandi. "You can go back to sleep if you want, I will stay up with her." He began rocking Amy in his arms gently. "Do you think she'll always be so calm?" He asked, turning his head to look at John.

John glanced down at their daughter and smiled. "I dunno. I was a pretty calm child so maybe." He looked up at Sherlock and shrugged. "I don't mind." His hand snaked out from under the blankets and rested on Sherlock's knee, this thumb rubbing it soothingly. Amy squeaked and kicked her feet, gurgling with a small twitch of her lips.

"Talkative tonight aren't you Baby Girl?" Sherlock returned his attention to little Sandi. He continued to rock her in his arms. He really didn't know what else to do. At the infant stage, it wasn't like Amy could really interact back. A toy maybe? Was that what it meant to be a father? Was it more than that? There was so much he didn't know, despite his extensive reading on the subject.

At the sound of Sherlock's voice Amy stopped, looking at him for a long moment before a small noise escaped her lips. John laughed softly and burrowed his head into the pillow. The most endearing thing to watch was Sherlock interact with Amy. It seemed natural for him but it was adorable to see him freeze up, still feel that uncertainty. "You are doing fine," he muttered as his eyes close, a smile on his face.

Sherlock looked around the room for a moment. He shifted, so little Sandi rested in one arm and then reached over to the lamp on the nightstand. "Baby Girl. Look over here. On." He flicked the switch to the light on. "Off." And then turned it off. He did that a few times, repeating the words 'on' and 'off' each time.

John smirked and cracked one eye open, watching Sherlock and Amy as the light went on and off. Amy's eyes watched the light, her chest moving a bit faster. She made a small noise and reached a hand toward the light. "Keeping her entertained," John stated with a small laugh.

Sherlock moved closer to the lamp. He took little Sandi's hand and helped her press the button. "See? On." Click. "Off." Click. He turned to John and smirked and gave a slight shrug. "I think so. Maybe." He returned his attention back to the lamp and Amy, helping her to turn the light switch once more.

Amy squeaked and moved her fingers, watching the light with wide eyes. She made a small gurgling noise and let her head shift to rest on Sherlock. John grinned and sat up slightly in the bed, shifting to place a kiss on the top of Amy's head. Their perfect family. He looked up at Sherlock and felt pride rush through his body.

Sherlock smiled. "Is that fun Baby Girl?" The light turned on and then off, as he guided little Sandi's hand to press the button repeatedly. "On." Click. "Off." Another click. "Well then, what do you want to do next?" He looked around the room for something new to entertain Amy with. He glanced to John. "Do you want a go with her?"

John smiled and watched Sherlock for a moment. He had just watched bonding time between his husband and daughter. "Where were you gonna take her?" He asked softly, holding his finger out as Amy grasped it. "Don't want to interrupt your bonding time." He glanced up at his husband.

Bonding? Sherlock supposed John was right. "I don't know. I was just trying to find something to keep her occupied since she isn't sleeping. I figured it must be boring just being bounced around all the time. Assuming she cares at the stage of her life…" He shrugged again, looking around the room once more.

"I sing to her when she can't sleep," John admitted softly, glancing down at Amy. "Or hum. Usually knocks her out. I bet if you had your violin she would love it." He flopped back on to the bed and stretched, scratching at his stomach absently. "If she _really_ doesn't want to sleep then try whispering to her. I tell her how perfect she is, how wonderful she is." He reached out and squeezed Sherlock's bicep.

"I have never sung before, not even as boy." Sherlock got up off the bed and began pacing the room. "Dad wants me to whisper to you? Would that help Baby Girl? Or you just not tired? Shouldn't be made to sleep if you aren't tired, now should you? Do you want to stay up all night with me? Hm?" He continued to pace around the room, rocking little Sandi in his arms.

Amy looked up at Sherlock and yawned, reaching a hand up and managing to close her eyes. "She's sleepy," John muttered as he pulled the blanket over his head again. "Look at her," he mumbled, his words a bit muffled. Amy gurgled and opened her eyes again, making several small noises and reaching up at Sherlock's face. "Want to snuggle with you," John whined.

Sherlock furrowed his brows a bit. Was John getting jealous of him spending time with little Sandi? That seemed silly but his husband seemed a bit upset. "Perhaps it is time for you to go back to sleep Baby Girl." He placed little Sandi down in the crib. "See. Here is your dog. Snuggle into it and close your eyes." He moved the stuffed toy to her grasp.

Amy eyed the dog for a moment before pushing it away with a small cry. The noise only increased as she looked up at Sherlock. John couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, so maybe she isn't tired." He sat up slowly and looked at his husband, his short hair sticking up in every direction. Amy cried again, loud and constant. "Bring her here, let's just ogle at her because that's apparently what she wants," he spoke with a smile and winked at Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked and picked up little Sandi up. "No sleep for you then. Come on. Let's talk your ear off and give you all kind of attention. Is that what you want? So needy of our undying love already? Want to see the light go on and off some more? Did you find that fascinating Baby Girl?" He moved back over to the bed and over to the lamp. "Okay. Here we go. On." He clicked the light on.

John shifted on the bed to watch the two of them, his arm draping lazily over Sherlock's thighs as Amy watched the light. Family bonding at midnight. Only normal with them, he figured. "We are in for a long day with you tomorrow, Amy," he muttered as he placed a kiss on Sherlock's arm. "You spoiled little girl." He smiled. She gurgled and squeaked, her finger clinching into her hand and her eyes traveling to Sherlock.

"Oh, it will be fine. I'll take care of her if she gets to be too much. It is my fault she wants to stay up." Sherlock took little Sandi's hand and turned the lamp off. "Off." With another flick it came back to life. "On." The light went off again when he pressed her tiny hand against the button. "Off." There had to be something else that would entertain her or was he going to be spend the rest of the night turning a lamp on and off?

Amy pulled feebly away from the light, letting out a soft cry. Boring. The light was only an amazing thing for so long. She twisted in Sherlock's arms and reached a hand up, grasping at a lock of unruly hair and giving it a tug. "Oh, okay, Miss Amy Watson." John reached up and pulled at her hand, making her release Sherlock's hair and cry louder.

"Oh so you get bored too? At such an early age?" Sherlock smirked at the hair tug. "It is fine John." He got up off the bed and looked around the room, trying to find something new to entertain little Sandi with. "Okay, what do you want to do Baby Girl? Do you want to go outside? See a garden under the star light maybe?"

Another loud cry as John slid out of bed, yanking a shirt on with a sheepish smile. "Family walk, then?" He opened the door and glanced down the hall. The Manor was dark, a bit eerie, but he glanced back at his husband. "I love you," he muttered and he moved toward the man and Amy. "You are perfect." And just as he moved in for a small kiss, Amy screamed. The loudest John had ever heard, and he winced.

"So much for being calm, eh?" Sherlock smirked despite the screaming. "Now Baby Girl, people are trying to sleep. Do try to keep it down. Perhaps I will be silly like a clown." Would a rhyme work? He moved down the stairs and glanced over to John. "Love you too my dear doctor. Not sure how this will go. First time we have had trouble with her."

"We will find out." John managed to say over Amy's continued screaming. Her face was red and every time she took a deep breath the moment of silence was _wonderful_. John followed Sherlock into the back garden, walking slowly at his side as Amy finally started to quiet down. Her face was soaked with tears as she looked up at the sky. "Oh, Papa, how do you feel about that? She might really like things like the Earth's orbit and the moon," he whispered and elbowed his husband playfully.

The screaming didn't seem to bother Sherlock at all. He smirked at John's comment. "Just because I have no use for the solar system doesn't mean she can't learn about it. Hell who knows, maybe that is what she will grow up studying." He looked up at the sky. "See. The stars are up there and the moon." He continued on, heading through the garden.

John decided to stay quiet now and let Sherlock bond with Amy. Honestly, it was something he thought he would never see. Not when he first met Sherlock Holmes, not when he found out about Amy. But now here they were. Sherlock was walking around the back garden of his childhood home showing _their_ daughter the stars. His husband really was perfect. Amy yawned and curled against Sherlock, studying his face intently.

"See? It is all calm and quiet out here. Just like you are right now Baby Girl." Sherlock stopped when they came across a rose bush. "This is a rose. Its scientific name is _Rosa_. I believe this one specifically is _Rosa_ _rubiginosa_. My botany is a bit rusty so I could be wrong." He leaned in to speak conspiratorially into little Sandi's ear. "Don't tell anyone though. It will be our secret."

Amy let out a squeak, her hand lifting to pat shakily at Sherlock's cheek. John dropped his head. For some reason he felt like Sherlock should have some privacy. Hell, he was married to the man and he didn't get to see this much of a personal side. So soft, caring...sweet. He wanted nothing more than to live in this moment the rest of his life. "You're perfect," he whispered as Amy's eyes drifted closed.

Sherlock watched little Sandi for a moment and then glanced over to John. "I know." He smirked broadly. "Guess the walk worked. Or I bored to her to sleep. Let's face it. Botany isn't that interesting to begin with. I don't blame her." The smirk returned. "Do you want to keep going or take her back to the crib?"

"Can I hold your hand? Because if I can I wouldn't mind continuing our walk," John whispered as he moved closer to his husband. "I am not going to be able to sleep anyway so it would be just a bit useless, really." He yawned and looked around the garden slowly before lifting his head to locking his gaze on the moon.

Sherlock shifted little Sandi so she would fit in the crook of his arm safely. He reached over and grabbed John's hand. "Come then. Maybe I can get you to fall asleep too. Does it work on adults?" He smirked once more and continued to walk through the tranquility of the garden. "I can attempt to recite the scientific names of the flowers for you."

"Why should I go to sleep if you are going to stay awake?" John asked softly, glancing at him with a raised brow and squeezing his hand. "I would much rather stay awake with you and _not_ hear the scientific names of the flowers in your Mum's garden." He giggled and let out another yawn, slowing down a bit. "Not going to sleep until you do." He stated stubbornly.

"John I am not tired. Even if I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes, I wouldn't be able sleep. You however, are clearly still tired so there is no reason for you not to sleep." Sherlock explained with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "If you don't want to sleep, fine. I can't make you but I can still try and advise you not to be a stubborn git."

John smirked and shrugged himself. "I just want to spend time with you," he replied calmly. "Because I can't actually believe that we are married." He bit his bottom lip and squeezed his husband's hand. "And any time that I get to spend with you, even if I'm exhausted, is wonderful." It was something he hadn't ever wanted to admit, it was something extremely personal, but he couldn't help himself.

Sherlock listened to John quietly; giving a slight nod after his husband spoke. He walked hand in hand with his partner in silence for a little while. He wasn't sure what to say now. Maybe nothing needed to be said. John seemed content just to spend time with him. After awhile he looked to his husband. "Besides teaching me how to swim and the obvious sexual activities while on the honeymoon, is there anything else you wanted to do while we are there?

John looked up at his husband at the question and shrugged in thought. "Get you to sleep a bit more," he said with a small laugh. "I...don't really know. Sightseeing? I mean, Italy is supposed to be beautiful, isn't it?" He squeezed Sherlock's hand and stopped by a beautiful looking rose bush, bravely plucking one. He made sure it was free of thorns before he tucked it behind Sherlock's ear with playful grin. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Sherlock raised a brow at the flower behind his ear. His hands were full, so he left it in place for now. "I don't know either. I didn't have anything in mind honestly. I'm not sure how much sightseeing we can do on a private beach, unless we go to some town or other. We will be on the Mediterranean, maybe take a boat ride? We can pretend we are the pirates in your story." He smirked at John.

"Except we probably shouldn't steal a ship like actual pirates." John smiled and stopped walking for a moment to place a kiss on his husband's cheek. "Go into the nearest town and try their pizza. And coffee," he added with a gasp. God, the food would be _delicious_. "Other than that I plan on shagging you in the shower, on the beach, in the ocean." He squeezed his husband tightly with a mischievous smirk.

Sherlock raised another eyebrow. "Shag in the ocean? Better make sure I am a strong swimmer before we do that. I would hate to drown before a good shagging." He smirked. "Sounds like we are going to keep quite busy on the honeymoon." He looked around the garden as they walked through it, growing up the few times he had gone outside he spent it in the garden.

"There is a shallow part to the ocean, Sherlock," John whispered with a laugh. "Besides, I was thinking of just giving you a good hand job and holding you up while you splashed around like some fish." He shrugged and glanced at each passing plant and flower, smiling a bit. It was lovely, a bit romantic even with Amy in Sherlock's arm. "Tonight turned out quite well."

"Yes, it did. What do you want to do when we get back home? How do you want to spend our time before the honeymoon my dear doctor?" They had walked the length of the garden, so Sherlock looped them back toward the manor. He glanced down to little Sandi to make sure she was still sleeping soundly.

"Well, apparently you get to shag me against the window," John stated with a quick look at Sherlock. "But I planned on healing, honestly. I need to get this shoulder better before anything else happens that I will really enjoy." He laughed and glanced at their daughter. "Take care of her. Spend time with her before we leave."

"We can shag against the window at a later time. How about a rain check on it?" Sherlock didn't want to admit that he was a little burnt out on sex after the last couple days. Or maybe it was just the last time. It wasn't something he thought was possible, but he supposed everyone had their limits. Even though he had always wanted to shag John against the window, he was fine with having to wait to do it a little longer.

Oh, thank God. John would have agreed to anything when he agreed to that. He was more than happy to wait. Except... "Was it the last time we..." His voice trailed off for a moment. He had seriously hurt Sherlock when he'd begged for it, when John gave in. "I'm really sorry about that, Sherlock." He glanced up at his husband, a blush on his cheeks. In that moment he was thankful they were just outside the manor and it was dark outside.

Sherlock knew that not answering would be just as if he had answered verbally. "It is fine." He gave a slight shrug, looking away from John. He didn't really want to talk about it. Would this be another one of those moments where his husband would insist and continue to pry? Despite his stubborn nature, he always seemed to end up caving. Usually to avoid a fight, though by trying to avoid them they wound up in one anyway.

John watched Sherlock for a long moment and nodded. No fighting. Don't push. "Alright." He squeezed Sherlock's hand as they entered the manor. If Sherlock didn't want to do anything than John would respect him. Not push him and upset him, something that usually led both of them into a fight. "I have...got a technique that could help you sleep, if you want." He smiled a bit and looked at his husband in the soft light of the foyer. "That way all three of us could get some much needed rest."

Sherlock was genuinely surprised when John just let it go but was relieved. He wasn't tired and didn't feel like sleeping at all, but he decided to humor his husband anyway. He nodded in agreement and walked up the stairs in silence. When they got to the room he put little Sandi down in the crib gently. He sat down on the bed and looked to his partner.

John crawled on to the bed and rested his back on the headboard, pulling Sherlock to rest between his legs with his husband's back against his chest. "I used it in Afghanistan all the time. If it can work on me falling asleep in the middle of the desert then it should work on you." He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Focus on your feet," he whispered into his husband's ear. "Start imagining that they're heavy. Really, _really_ heavy. You can't lift them." He paused and looked at his husband. "Close your eyes."

Seriously? Sherlock regretted agreeing. This was stupid. He wasn't tired. He didn't want to sleep. This wasn't going to work. He forced himself to follow John's instructions despite his misgivings. Just humor his husband. With any luck his partner would fall asleep soon and he could stop this ridiculousness.

"Now your legs," John whispered. "They are heavy and you can't lift them and pretty soon they will just fall asleep." His hands moved between them to rub gently at Sherlock's muscles. "Stop thinking about how stupid this is, I can feel it in your back," he muttered with a small grin. "You just need some sleep," he whispered.

Why did John think he needed sleep? He _wasn't_ tired. People generally didn't attempt to sleep when they aren't tired. Sherlock was getting irritated. He shouldn't have agreed to this. All he could do at this point was to try and wait out his husband and hope the other man drifted off to sleep before he got annoyed to the point of snapping and the fight he had tried to avoid would happen anyway.

It was clear that Sherlock wasn't going to do this. John smirked a bit and rested his head on Sherlock's back with a yawn. Christ, he was so tired. His arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist as his eyes closed slowly. "Now... arms," he muttered softly, the sentence ending in a soft snore. It wasn't the most comfortable position to sleep in but John didn't seem to care.

Oh thank God. Sherlock's tense body relaxed. He stayed where he was, so as not to wake John up. Would there ever be a way to convince his husband he didn't need to sleep on a regular basis? He had conditioned his body a long time ago. It was what allowed him to work long hours on a case. It made him more efficient at his job. He sighed at his thoughts and stared into the darkness, not really staring at any one thing.


	18. Chapter 18

John's arms tensed around Sherlock, his toes curling for a moment as he mumbled into Sherlock's back. It was brief and he relaxed again, continuing to mumble. "Jus' stay down..." His hand curled against Sherlock's stomach. "Don' fire." He inhaled a deep breath and curled one leg, wrapping it tightly around Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned a bit. John was obviously dreaming. Would it turn into nightmare? He gently ran a hand along his husband's arm. "Easy my dear doctor. You are safe with me," he whispered. Hopefully that would help to calm his partner. His other hand found John's and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

John grunted at the contact but relaxed further into Sherlock. It took him a few moments but he slowly opened his eyes. "'M gonna move," he mumbled against Sherlock's back slowly. "Let you lay down," he added, almost as an afterthought. He moved, curling a leg behind Sherlock's back before flopping on to the mattress with his back to his husband. He curled into a tight ball and fell back asleep with a sigh.

Sherlock shifted and waited for John to settle. He curled into his husband, wrapping an arm around the other man. Was he just being a stubborn child at this point? He sighed, nestling his head into his partner's back. Hopefully his closeness would help calm John down and his husband would sleep sound for the rest of the night.

John relaxed the moment Sherlock touched him, uncurling slightly from the tight ball he had rolled himself in. The comfort, even while he was asleep, was wonderful. Especially from his husband. He slept soundly until the sun started peaking in through the windows, groaning at the brightness. Dark. Sleep. John groaned again and turned into Sherlock, pressing his face into his husband's chest.

Sherlock had actually tried to sleep at some point but it evaded him the entire night. He remained curled around John. He barely moved at all, until he felt his husband stirring next to him. His partner didn't seem quite awake, so he remained quiet but he gave John a small sideways hugs.

"Wanna sleep all day," John grumbled into Sherlock's bare chest. He had stayed up for so long, hadn't slept properly in days, and it had suddenly hit him hard. "Morning." He blearily opened one eye and pressed a soft kiss against his husband's chest.

"Morning." Sherlock was glad John had slept so long. He gave the top of his husband's head a kiss. Little Sandi had slept too. "We can just lay here awhile, if we want. Mum will probably want us to stay for breakfast before we leave today."

"Even after brunch yesterday?" John lifted his head slightly and giggled, pressing the tip of his nose against his husband's with a sheepish smile. "I would love just sitting here with you," he whispered, tilting his head to softly meet Sherlock's lips. "I love you, stubborn git." He lifted a hand and ran it through Sherlock's unruly hair.

"My Mum will want to make sure I eat. She will probably have the syrup ready." Sherlock smirked a bit and pulled John a little closer, by wrapping his arms around his husband and drawing him into a hug. "What do you want to do once we are back home? Take it easy obviously, but anything you want to do or get done before our honeymoon?"

"I don't care. Just be with you," John mumbled with a small shrug. "Probably buy new clothes for Amy. She is going to grow a lot while we are gone." He paused and dropped his head for a moment, admiring Sherlock's body pressed against his own. "Buy some whipped cream." He added lowly as he lifted his gaze to his husband's. "Or in your case, syrup."

"Little Sandi will be three months by the time we get back from our honeymoon." It had felt like more time than that had gone by to Sherlock. Probably due to everything that had happened recently. He smirked. "What can I say? I am rather fond of syrup, maple specifically. I had forgotten I liked it so much until yesterday."

"She is going to be old." John said with a low chuckle, twisting slightly to look at the crib. "So old. Oh so very old." He turned and placed a quick peck on Sherlock's lips. "I can't wait," he whispered softly. "A month alone with you. My husband." He smiled foolishly and snuggled into Sherlock. "We will make a mess with syrup," he commented softy.

Sherlock grinned slightly and snuggled into John even more. "Not only would the syrup be messy but it would also very sticky. We would have to shower every time we used it." The grin turned into a smirk."Which, if you ask me wouldn't really be all that bad."

"I wouldn't be able to get you off me," John said with a grin, clearly not opposing the idea. He shivered slightly and glanced over Sherlock's shoulder. Shower. "I am going to pop in the shower. Get a bit warm, wash off." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's lips and climbed over him, jumping on to the floor and sauntering into the bathroom. "Be back soon. Unless you want to get a bit clean, too?"

"As tempting and lovely as that sounds, one of us should probably stay in case little Sandi wakes up." Sherlock sat up and indicated the crib. "I will take one when you are done my dear doctor." He stretched and got up off the bed, getting a fresh set of clothing ready for himself.

John nodded and glanced at the crib, standing on his toes to get a glance at her. Amy was curled tightly around the stuffed dog in her crib, sleeping peacefully. Good. He took one last glance at his husband before dropping his pajama pants and underwear and climbing into the shower.

Amy twisted in the crib, clutching tighter to the stuffed dog and turning to gaze at Sherlock through the bars of the crib. She didn't do anything else, her little chest moving rhythmically.

When the clothes were placed on the bed he decided to check on little Sandi. She had slept all night, probably due to staying up way past her bed time. "Why good morning Baby Girl." He picked her up carefully. Okay. He could do this. It didn't take long for him to recall all the books he had read. He checked her diaper. She would need a bath and fed as well, he figured.

Amy gurgled and gazed absently at the ceiling, a hand moving to rest on Sherlock's bare chest.

John finished his shower and grabbed a towel, leaving the bathroom as he rubbed at his hair. "Oh, good morning Miss Holmes-Watson," he whispered, moving to place a kiss on her forehead. "You slept very late, you lazy little girl." He looked at Sherlock and managed a lop-sided smile. "Want me to change and bathe her? You can shower."

Sherlock was looking down at little Sandi when his husband came back. He arched a brow. "That was a quick shower. Then again, I wasn't there to distract you." He smirked a bit. "You sure?" He asked, even though he passed off their daughter to John.

"Of course. Go shower." John lowered a hand to smack Sherlock's arse with a smirk. "Now you, Miss Amy, let us get you ready for today." He placed a second kiss on her forehead and moved to the bed, snatching the diaper bag from under it. He moved into the bathroom and washed her off before bring her back to the bed. "Hi there," he whispered as he put a new diaper on. "Oh yes, look at you. All clean and ready for the day." He tugged a small dress on her, opting to leave her barefoot as he sat on the bed and wrapped her in his arms. "Hi, Amy. I'm your Daddy," he whispered in her ear, holding her close like he was afraid he would lose her.

Sherlock smirked at John and then disappeared into the bathroom. He took a longer shower than John had. For awhile he just stood under the spray of the hot water. Once done, he stepped out of the shower and dried off. He didn't bother to wrap a towel around and returned to the bedroom, and began dressing. It was nice not having to wear a damn tuxedo.

John glanced up at his husband for a moment and smirked. "Oi, stop it, Sherlock. I am trying to stay focused on _healing_." He looked back down at Amy, who stared back up at him with wide eyes. Christ, she was amazing. His daughter. "D'you ever find yourself looking at her in amazement? That she's here? A little human?" He asked softly, reaching a finger out for her to grasp.

Sherlock smirked. "It isn't my fault I look amazing. Just got good genes. Oh and by virtue of being me, I am perfect anyway." Oh no. Were these more of those 'googly eyed' questions? He was silent for a moment while he finished dressing. Lie? Tell the truth? Would this start a fight? "No, not really..." He answered cautiously.

John's eyes lifted swiftly, his entire body tense for a long moment. It was Sherlock. He felt like they had already had that conversation. "Who knows," he whispered, looking back down at their daughter. "Maybe you will soon." His lips quirked to one side and he wiggled his finger. Amy watched him for a moment and grabbed his finger again. "I do, at least." He shifted and his towel tugged a bit lower on his hips. "I can't believe it."

Sherlock tensed when John did and he thought for sure this was the beginning of another fight. Whew. He relaxed and nodded slightly. "Maybe," he muttered. Now he just wanted to leave the room. Go smoke a cigarette perhaps. Instead he stayed in the bedroom but he remained quiet. He wasn't sure what to do or say.

It was obvious now that John had made Sherlock uncomfortable. It wasn't intentional, really, but every time Amy was in his arms he just felt...moved. Wonderful. Like he could conquer a country for her. "Sorry," he whispered after the long pause. "I didn't...it wasn't..." He cleared his throat and nicked his head to the side. "Sorry."

Sherlock shrugged. "It is fine. I was just...worried another fight was going to happen..." He admitted. He was silent for a moment and then looked over to John. "I'm sorry that I don't...see things like you do... I know it makes me difficult to live with, but I'm trying John." He was trying his best to explain things to his husband.

Fight. Well, they had certainly done a lot of that recently. It shouldn't surprise John, really. "Sherlock, I fell in love with you and I know what I'm getting myself into, yeah? Don't change because I am a stubborn git sometimes. I know...I know that you don't see the little things like me but I think that's why I'm married to you." He smiled a bit and shrugged. "I think I'm with you to show you those little things, even if you don't care."

Sherlock nodded, feeling slightly better. It was nice a change to be able to talk about things calmly without one or the other getting upset about things. Well, now what? The issue seemed to be solved now though. "Ready for breakfast then?" Change the subject. Get the day on with. Seemed as good as any course of action that needed to be taken.

"Of course." John stood slowly, holding Amy protectively to his chest, and looking around. "Is...somebody going to come up and put all our stuff in a car?" He asked with furrowed brows, glancing at his husband. He honestly didn't feel like carrying all of that downstairs and to a car. Didn't the manor have people who did that? He moved toward his husband and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "C'mon, let's fill you full of food...and syrup." He grinned as he opened the door.

Okay, good. Sherlock nodded. "Yes, of course. I will tell someone to tend to the bags when we get down to the dining room." He followed John out of the room and down the stairs. He wasn't hungry but maybe he would manage to eat something for his husband. His mother was already there and he gave her a small smile.

"Good morning boys!" Nancy exclaimed cheerily. After talking with her sons last night, she was feeling much better.

"Good morning, Nancy." John said with a small smile, taking his seat and shifting Amy to cradle in his left hand. "Here, Sherlock." He shifted and put two pancakes on his husband's plate, pouring syrup on them with a smile. "Eat up," he said as he put some eggs on his plate and took several small bites. "Tell Papa to eat, Amy," he said against the top of her head. She responded with a small squeak.

"Good morning," Mycroft sat down in his chair and dug right into the breakfast foods. "Gregory is still asleep. Long night," he muttered.

Sherlock sat down and stared at the plate of food. How many times would have to humor John and do ordinary things he didn't do often until it was necessary? He sighed and picked up a fork, cut a piece off, and shoveled it into his mouth. He didn't look up at Mycroft as his brother entered the room.

Nancy smiled and began eating the food off her plate. After chewing, she spoke to her youngest on. "Eating two day in a row, Sherlock? Well it is about time."

Another mistake. John heard it in Sherlock's sigh. Shit. Bad. "Sorry," he muttered around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He just...wanted to keep his husband healthy. Happy. Apparently he was doing a bad job. "Don't have to eat, Sherlock," he whispered. Why was it now that they were married they could only shag and make tense situations? Was this how it was always going to be?

Mycroft lifted his head slowly, smirking at the two men across the table. "Oh, Mummy, John is just making him eat. It is clear who's in charge in this relationship."

Sherlock looked up from his food, glared at Mycroft, threw his fork down and then stormed out of the dining hall. Shit. He sighed again and made his way to his father's study. It didn't take long for him to find a pack of cigarette. He sat down behind the desk, lit up and inhaled deeply.

"Mycroft! Why do you always provoke your younger brother so? Go apologize immediately!" Nancy chastised her oldest son.

John jumped slightly and the sound of the fork hitting the table made Amy let out a small cry. "Oh, Baby Girl, shh..." He started to rock her, whispering in her ear as he watched Mycroft stand up. "Don't talk to my husband like that," he growled softly, turning his attention back to the infant as she let out another cry.

"Wonderful," Mycroft muttered, moving into their father's study and narrowing his eyes at the sight of his younger brother smoking. "You shouldn't be smoking indoors," he muttered, not looking at Sherlock.

"The Old Man used to smoke in here all the time." Sherlock shrugged and continued smoking. Every inhale was deep and exhale slow. "What do you want? Come to tell me what to do some more? Because I am not in the mood Mycroft. So kindly sod off and leave me alone, would you? Tell Mummy everything is fine between us."

Mycroft tensed and finally looked at Sherlock. "He is already stressing you out," he pointed out with a worried expression. It was obvious that his one comment wasn't enough to push Sherlock to smoking. It was clearly the result of several things piling up. "Should we talk about it? So this doesn't happen again?" He moved into the office and sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

"I am tired Mycroft. Tired already. Maybe this was a mistake. One big bloody mistake. It is like John expects all these things from me and I'm trying to humor him, but I just end up annoyed and frustrated." Sherlock shrugged again, took out another cigarette and began smoking a second one as soon as the first one was snuffed out.

Of course he wanted to ask if Sherlock had even talked to John but he knew the answer. "Sherlock," Mycroft studied his younger brother intently. "Tell him. Not that you think it is a mistake, God no..." He watched the cigarette and sighed. "Tell him that you don't want to sleep, don't want to eat." He shrugged. "Marriage is all about communication, dear brother, and you can't just think that because you are wearing that ring it stops. Before you two were married you communicated the best you could. Just keep doing that."

"The only thing that happens when we 'communicate' is a fight. In fact just before coming down to breakfast we almost got in a row." Sherlock smoked the second cigarette significantly faster than the first one. By the time he was finished speaking, he was getting ready to light up a third one. He hadn't realized how stressed he was until now.

Mycroft watched his brother with a grimace. Three cigarettes. Not good. He didn't want to say it but he was worried that the two getting married might have been a bad idea. "I think you need to sit down and talk to him, Sherlock. You need to tell him that you don't want to eat or sleep regularly just because you are married.'"

Sherlock thoughtfully smoked his third cigarette before replying. "I just want to make him happy. He has been through so much shit lately..." He trailed off with a shrug. "But trying to make him happy is making me miserable. I should have never got married Mycroft. I can try and pretend that domestic life suits me, but clearly it doesn't..."

"Find a middle ground?" Mycroft proposed softly. "I know how much he likes just being with you. You don't have to sleep but let him be with you at night. Just tell him you aren't going to sleep," he muttered. It felt like somebody had filled his veins with ice water. That was something he didn't want to hear. "And you think domestic life suits him? An ex-soldier with the worst post traumatic stress I have seen in years? This isn't easy for him either, Sherlock. But he loves you and he wanted to prove it."

Prove it. Were the words going to haunt him forever? Sherlock dropped his head, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. He was quiet a long moment. He removed the cigarette before speaking, but didn't lift his head. "John told me he wanted me to prove to him I loved him and ever since then I have been struggling to do so. But it is like nothing I do is good enough... He takes everything so damned personally."

Oh. So _that_ was what the fight had been about when Sherlock had texted him the night before their wedding. "He knows you love him. Have you been paying attention the past few days? He just stares at you like you are the only person in the world." Mycroft watched Sherlock for a long moment. "Don't try. Don't force yourself to show him. Just...do what you were doing when your relationship started. That is the man he fell for, isn't it?"

"That's the problem Mycroft, he does that and I don't. Today before breakfast he asked me if I sit in wonder when I look at little Sandi. I don't. You should have seen his face, the way he looked at me for the longest time…" Sherlock trailed off and promptly lit up a fourth cigarette, inhaling it deeply as soon as it was between his lips.

Normal things. Things that Sherlock Holmes never did and had never considered. "Do you love him?" Mycroft asked softly. "When you see him, do you think you couldn't live without him?" Because he knew his younger brother did. Sherlock just didn't understand it.

"That's a stupid question," Sherlock muttered. Of course he loved John. He smoked in silence after that for a little while. "Honestly, I can't imagine my life without him. The instant he stepped into my life, I knew. I'm not saying I loved him right then and there, but I knew my life was going to change. For a little while, it was almost like having a pet. He thought I was fantastic, brilliant. Hell, he still does. When everyone else called me a 'freak' or thought me just plan crazy, he never saw that. Not once…"

"Guess what? That's all that matters. Don't sit around trying to think about how you can prove it, Sherlock. Just...do it." Mycroft stood up slowly. "But do it just like you would. Just like Sherlock Holmes." He leaned over the desk and snatched up the pack of cigarettes. "Also, have him buy you some nicotine patches."

"Better than doing heroin." Sherlock finished what was apparently his last cigarette. "They gave it to me you know…while John and I were being held captive. Two years and I was clean. The drug withdrawal was awful, worse than last time. I still want it every now and then." He shrugged, got up and left the room. Too much sharing for his liking. He walked back to the dining room. "Come on John, let's go home."

Mycroft was about to open his mouth but his younger brother had already left the room. Drugs. John. Maybe Sherlock wasn't doing as well as he would like to think.

John shifted slightly in his chair to look at his husband, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment. "Okay." He stood slowly and held Amy against his chest. "Thank you, Nancy. For everything." He moved toward Sherlock and smiled warmly.

Sherlock looked over to his mother. "Yes Mum. It was lovely, thank you." Now he just wanted to go back to the flat. Maybe things would make sense again once he got back home.

Nancy came over and hugged her youngest son. "Sherlock! Have you been smoking? You are just like your father."

Sherlock returned the hug but when the embrace ended he tensed at being compared to the Old Man. Yep, definitely time to go.

John watched the two hesitantly before shifting Amy comfortably into his left arm and grabbing Sherlock's hand. "C'mon," he whispered as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Let's go home." He stood on his toes and placed a kiss on his husband's cheek. Maybe things would get better, Sherlock wouldn't be so tense. Everything would be fine.

Sherlock nodded and led John out of the manor. There was a black car waiting outside and the servants were in the process of finish loading it up. He opened the door for his husband and daughter and then went around the car and got in on the other side. He slumped inside of it, still craving a nicotine fix, despite having just smoked four cigarettes.

"Want me to go buy you a pack?" John asked softly, rocking Amy in his arms. As much as he disliked smoking he wanted his husband to be happy. If it meant a bad habit, he would live with it. "I bet we could get wonderful cigarettes in Italy."

Sherlock glanced up at John and smiled. "No. Maybe some patches though. I was doing so well, really shouldn't start up again." If he could kick heroin, _twice_ , he could quit damn cigarettes. It wouldn't be good for the baby. He had a family now. He needed to stop thinking only of himself. Stop being so selfish.

John smiled softly and gazed proudly at his husband. "Okay. I can do that." He watched as London passed through the window of the car. Home. A place where his family was. "I'm so glad I married you," he whispered, keeping his gaze locked out the window. When the car slid to a stop in front of 221B he relaxed.

Sherlock got out and once more opened the door for John and little Sandi. He followed them up the stairs. Once he was inside, he slumped down into his chair. Hopefully things would sort themselves out between he and his husband. Maybe the honeymoon would help smooth things over. It was nice to be back at the flat, away from the stress of his childhood.


	19. Chapter 19

The next month seemed tense for John, trying to please Sherlock and constantly keep him happy. They cared for Amy and before he knew it the bags were packed, Amy was with Nancy, and he was dressing himself in the bathroom with a completely healed shoulder. In a few hours they would be on a private beach by themselves. "Sherlock, is your bag completely packed?" John poked his head out of the bathroom as he finished buttoning his shirt.

Sherlock had decided not to talk to John. A mistake? He wasn't sure yet. Maybe in time he would get there. His husband was healed physically, but the other man still struggled through nightmares from time to time. He had spent a lot of the time playing the violin and writing new music. It seemed to be helping. He had just entered the living room, dressed and bag in hand. "Of course. Are you almost ready my dear doctor?"

John nodded and grabbed his bag, moving to the kitchen table to grab the plan tickets. "Right. Swim suit?" He glanced at his husband, brows raised. "Don't forget it." He moved forward slowly and took a deep breath, standing on his toes to gently meet Sherlock's lips. "I am so excited."

"Yes, John. We went through the trouble of picking one out, might as well use it. You had better be a good teacher." Sherlock smirked. "Me too." And he was. It would be good to get away for awhile.

"At least we found black ones," John admonished lightly, playfully rolling his eyes. "You will look fine. We will be on a beach by ourselves, nobody will see you." He tugged at Sherlock's shirt and grinned. "C'mon, our flight leaves in two hours, we should get to the airport." He started down the stairs and toward the front door. "Young Master Holmes." He turned to glance at his husband with a giggle.

"Coming _adorable Johnny_." Sherlock smirked and followed after his husband and down the stairs with his luggage. As usual Mycroft had arranged for a car to pick them up. He put the baggage in the trunk and then got in the back seat. "This will be good. Think we can make it better than Scotland?"

John wanted to say yes but the past month had been so tense. They had only had sex once and it had been rushed and felt more like a responsibility than anything. Except he hadn't told that to Sherlock. "I hope so." He smiled slightly at his husband and reached across the back seat to grab Sherlock's hand. "I won't be impressed unless we break another headboard," he added with a laugh.

Sherlock had noticed John's hesitation but nodded anyway. This next month _had_ to at least be better than the last one. He squeezed his husband's hand. "We will break everything in the place by the time I am done with you." He smirked slightly.

At those words John felt a chill run up his spine. God, that sounded wonderful. "Want to start it now?" He asked softly, glancing in his husband's direction. He shifted closer to Sherlock and slowly pulled their hands apart without waiting for an answer. His hand undid his husband's troursers while he glanced out the window, watching London pass by. Start now. Make Sherlock happy. His hand slipped into his partner's underwear and confidently grabbed his penis, giving it a quick squeeze.

Sherlock was about to say they didn't have enough time but feeling John's hand on his cock quickly changed his mind. "Oh God yes," he uttered. He grabbed his husband by the shirt to pull him closer and possibly get the other man to straddle him. His eyes closed as he bucked into his partner's hand.

John had just planned on giving Sherlock a hand job but the tug on his shirt was hard to resist. He moved without a second thought to straddle his husband. In the back of a car. Specifically, one of Mycroft's cars. He didn't speak as he started to stroke Sherlock, tight and slow. Even just on their way to their honeymoon was better than the past month. He sat back slightly on Sherlock's hips to keep his hand moving.

Sherlock moaned, his body rocking in time with John's strokes. His eyes opened and he moved into kiss his husband. His tongue took no time at all to eagerly enter his partner's. This was certainly so much better than the last month. Maybe this month would turn out better than Scotland. He was motivated to make it happen. "I love you," he murmured behind the kiss.

John whimpered into the kiss, moving his tongue to tangle with Sherlock's. "I love you too," he whispered against his husband's lips. His hand tightened around Sherlock's cock and started to move faster. They didn't have much time, they would be at the airport soon. "God, yes."

It didn't take long to get him off. Sherlock wasn't sure if it was the excitement of getting a hand job in one of Mycroft's cars or just because they hadn't really done anything in a month's time. He let out a moan of appreciation as he came, his body relaxing afterward. He continued to kiss John, not caring about the mess that had just been made on his trousers. He didn't want the closeness to stop. It had been too long and now he _needed_ it, craved it.

John grinned into the kiss, running his tongue across his husband's teeth with a whimper. Perfect. In the car on the way to the airport and things were already looking better. He pressed closer to Sherlock and continued the kiss until he needed to breathe. "Good," he whispered. "Very good."

Sherlock pressed back into John, fingers scratching through his husband's shirt. When the kiss broke, he began sucking on his partner's neck with a growl of excitement. He moved his lips to John's ear. "I love you. I am sorry if I have been difficult since being married. Can we maybe start over?" He nibbled on the ear after whispering into it.

"Yeah," John gasped out, breathing hard and trying to calm himself down. The car was stopping. It wouldn't do them any good to get caught like this. "Of course. Always." He shifted and slid off of Sherlock as the door opening slightly, the driver looking slightly upset. It was clear he had heard everything. "C'mon." He slid out of the seat and glanced back into the car. "Let's go."

Sherlock smirked at the driver. "Give my regards to Mycroft. Might want to have the car detailed…just in case." The smirk only got bigger as he stepped out. He got out the luggage without trouble and waited until John was ready to walk into the airport. Things were off to a glorious start. Hopefully it would continue down this road. It should. He had been serious about a fresh start. With any luck, so was his husband.

John moved easily toward his husband, smiling sheepishly. "C'mere, your trousers." He grinned and moved in front of his husband, fixing them. The wet spot would be a bit harder fix. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him into the airport, adjusting his own erection in his jeans. "Few hours and we will be there. Christ, I can't wait."

Sherlock smirked to John and shrugged. "I have an extra set of clothes in my carry on. I can change before we board the plane. If the bathroom is empty, maybe I can fix your problem." He smirked again, as he waited in line to check in their bags. It went surprisingly fast and security didn't take long either. He grabbed John's hand and tugged his husband towards the nearest restroom.

The bathroom? John tripped over his feet and followed after Sherlock, relaxing slightly when they entered an empty bathroom. "Change," he whispered, meeting his husband's lips softly. "I won't make you do anything in a bathroom." But Christ they were already doing better. He felt a bit daring but he didn't want to force Sherlock into anything. He instead glanced around the bathroom with a lop-sided smile.

Sherlock smirked and tugged John into the stall with him. He closed the door and locked it into place. He pressed his body into his husband's eagerly, backing the other man into the door of the stall. For a moment he just snogged his partner, before he broke it and got on his knees. He undid John's trousers, fingers fumbling for a moment in his excitement.

"Sherlo-" John was cut off as Sherlock kissed him, a small grunt pressing into his husband's mouth as he felt the door against his back. The moment he felt comfortable with the kiss was when Sherlock pulled away. It took John a moment to realize what was going on. "You sure?" He asked hesitantly despite the fact that a hand moved into his husband's hair.

The answer was obviously yes, when Sherlock got the trousers and boxers down and he took John's penis in his mouth. The pace started slow at first but as he eased into the rhythm it got faster. One hand took hold of the base of the cock to stroke the part his mouth couldn't quite reach. The other hand pressed against the door for support.

John's head slammed back into the door, a loud noise echoing through the bathroom. "Yes, fuck." His hand clenched in Sherlock's hair as he let out a soft whimper. It wasn't until he had managed to suck in a deep breath of air that he heard footsteps. "S-Stop," he stuttered out in a whisper, looking down at his husband as he panted. Two stalls down a door shut. "Wait," he added breathlessly.

Sherlock didn't want to stop but when John requested it a second time, he complied. The thought of getting caught was strangely alluring but getting arrested before the honeymoon would definitely ruin things. Although, the phone call to Mycroft about it might be worth it. It was tempting but he remained still, breathing quietly.

John whimpered, lifting his right hand and shoving it in his mouth. Christ, his cock was still in Sherlock's mouth. His breathing was hard and he couldn't help it when his hips nudged forward slightly in the warmth of his husband's mouth. After a few long moments the toilet flushed, the stranger washed his hands, and then John and Sherlock were alone again. "Jesus," he moaned and looked down at Sherlock lustfully.

Sherlock shifted his gaze upward, a smirk on his lips around John's penis. When he heard the stranger leave the bathroom, he immediately went back to work. It took him a moment to find the previous pace before the interruption. The rhythm continued to increase in speed, his hand working in time with his mouth.

It had been almost a month. There was no way he was going to last very long. "Sherlock..." He looked down at his husband and tensed as he came. He struggled to stand, his legs wiggling as he slumped against the door to the stall. "Holy...that was..." He swallowed hard and ran his hand through Sherlock's hair. "I love you."

Sherlock swallowed it all with practiced ease. He licked his lips as he stood up and then helped John pull his jeans up and button them into place. He then changed quickly, not minding the small space that was offered with two of them in the stall. "Love you too dear doctor. Now, perhaps we should go find our gate. Wouldn't want the plane to leave without us." He grinned and gave his husband's nose a quick kiss.

John watched his husband change as he finally calmed down, moving to place a peck on Sherlock's lips. "That would be awkward to explain, wouldn't it?" He giggled softly as he opened the stall. This was wonderful. It felt like the tension of the last month was completely gone. They were back to normal. "Let's go." He grabbed his husband's hand and gave it a tug as they left the room.

Sherlock grinned. "I can see us trying to explain it to my brother. He would pretend to be annoyed, but really he would be amused." He followed John out of the bathroom. It didn't take them long to navigate the airport and find the gate they would be departing from. "Did I tell you we are flying first class? A Holmes _always_ travels first class."

"First class?" John swallowed hard and fell into his sear beside his husband. "I...What? I have never flown first class. Ever. Isn't that expensive?" He reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand, squeezing it as he looked around their gate. Awkwardly enough they weren't the only couple at the gate and all of them looked as eager as them. "Is it nice?"

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Mum wouldn't let us fly coach, even if you asked. She is big on propriety and social class. There's more foot room and the pillows are nicer, but other than that there isn't that big of a difference if you ask me. There tends to be a lot of annoying, loud businessmen in first class. Think they are more important than everyone else. It is quite ridiculous."

"I am a Watson. I have absolutely no social class," John muttered with a small grin. "Maybe I should have taken your last name. Sound more important." He shifted in the seat, wincing slightly. His boxers were slightly damp. "I owe you. That blow job was..." He paused and glanced at his husband. "I owe you," he repeated.

"Nonsense. You are Captain John Hamish Watson. Fearless. Brave. True. I wouldn't have let you change your name." Sherlock gave a smirk. "You have the entire honeymoon to try and make it up to me. I will make you work for it though." The smirk got bigger and finally first class was called to board. "I love you too." He grabbed John's hand once more and he walked up the already forming line to board.

John grimaced physically at the use of his military rank. It was odd to hear. He stood with his husband and glanced around at everybody they were boarding with. Rich. Suits. Even Sherlock was dressed nice. "This is going to be odd," he whispered. "Oh well, more room. Maybe I will take a nap." He followed the line and as they boarded the plane he plopped into the seat closest to the window. It drew several stares from some business men.

Sherlock took the aisle seat. He leaned over to whisper in John's ear. "Nap? My dear doctor, haven't you ever wanted to shag on an airplane?" He grinned mischievously and then buckled himself into the seat. He turned his head to glare at the men staring. "Never seen a man in jeans before? For God's sake, mind your own damned business." He flashed a menacing smile.

John blushed and shifted in his seat. He was drawing attention to them. "I...how would we even do that?" He asked softly. It was clear he was uncomfortable with their given situation but he was going to make the most of it. "If I would have worn my uniform I wouldn't be drawing so much attention to us," he whispered. And little did Sherlock know that he brought it with him with some ideas.

"Bah. Just ignore them," Sherlock growled and turned his attention back to John. His demeanor and tone of voice changed immediately. "After the plane takes off and it is safe to undo the seat belt, I could show you." The mischievous grin returned once more. "I even came prepared. You know, just in case our luggage got lost. Or in this case, we wanted to have some fun before we arrive at our destination."

Oh. Sherlock had this planned. "I... yeah, okay." John grinned sheepishly. He was prepared so how could he argue with that? "Just don't draw attention to us. Y'know, leave at different times." His hand reached out to squeeze his husband's thigh. Apparently all it took was a honeymoon to fix them. They hadn't been this intimate since their wedding night.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You sure? We don't have to if you don't want to." He didn't want John to feel obligated just because he had thought of it. He had planned it out ahead of time. A surprise of sorts for his husband. It was risky though. Timing would be key. The chance of getting caught made it more exciting.

John turned his head and smiled. "Yeah, of course I am sure. I wouldn't have agreed to it if I didn't want to." He understood how important planning was to each of them, especially when it came to sex. He didn't want to ruin it. Hell, he had made an effort to sneak something on to the plane, be it Vaseline or lube, and John should be grateful. "I am ready whenever you are," he whispered as the seat belt light turned off.

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "We should wait until the flight attendants start handing out snacks. Less likely to be seen or noticed. When I go in, wait about ten...maybe fifteen minutes." He undid his seat belt and took out a small black bag with draw strings and stuck it in his pockets.

John watched the bag curiously. Shit. This was serious. "Okay," he muttered, watching his husband curiously. Now he was excited and the bulge in his trousers was growing. "B-Bathroom, then?" He stumbled over the words like some sort of idiot, shaking his head. Come on. Focus. He shifted in his seat as a young woman started handing out little packages of biscuits, smiling at him a bit more suggestively before glancing at Sherlock and continuing down the aisle.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at John. "Knock three times so I know it's you. Softly..." The look from the flight attendant didn't go unnoticed. He bit his tongue. Don't draw attention. He got up from his seat and went to the bathroom. He locked it and took out the bag. It had a plastic screw driver in it and one of those small packets of sample lubes. He took the screwdriver out and removed the plastic the toilet was attached to. It didn't take him as long as he thought it would, so he waited the signal from John.

Okay. Calm. John looked up and down the aisle, waiting for about ten minutes before standing. He headed toward the bathroom confidently. Knock three times. Softly. When the door opened, he got in swiftly and shut it, locking it instantly. "What was the bag for?" He reached over and picked it up, inspecting it curiously.

Sherlock smirked and tilted his toward the missing cover of the toilet. "Screw driver, plastic. Wouldn't be able to smuggle a metal one on. Well, I could have tried but that would have taken extra effort and higher risk. Now climb down, you will end up in the cargo area. I will unlock the door, climb in after you, pulling the cover with me and screwing it back into place. I doubt anyone will notice the screws are upside down as long as it's in place. There's also some lube in the bag."

Was this some sort of action movie? "I...Yeah. Okay. Right then." John did as told, grabbing the lube as he dropped into the dark cargo hold, wincing to try and adjust to the darkness. "Hurry up," he whispered as he looked up at the light.

Sherlock waited for John to be below and then worked quickly. He clicked the door unlocked, hoping no one was outside waiting. He climbed down, pulling the seat with and hurriedly but skillfully put the screws back into place. Whew. Getting up would take luck just like getting down had. Worry about that later. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and then he took John's hand and led them away from the restroom. His other trailed along the wall as a guide. When he thought they were far enough away, he pulled his husband into him with his back pressed against the wall and began kissing his partner with need and aggression.

John let out a muffled grunt, returning the kiss aggressively. Without a doubt in his mind they had fixed things. The kiss was sloppier than he would have liked but he couldn't see Sherlock's face. "What're we gonna do?" He whispered, reaching between them to start undoing his husband's trousers. Shit, he wanted Sherlock inside of him but if his husband wanted something different then he wasn't going to argue.

"Thought maybe I could take you from behind. It would leave you pressed against the side of the plane, so it might be a bit uncomfortable. Better than trying the floor though, I believe." Sherlock bucked into John eagerly. He rolled, gripping his husband's shirt once more to pull the other man with him. When they finished rotating, he had his partner's back against the wall. He moved in to kiss John once more, fingers finally working to get his husband's trousers off.

Perfect. John moved with Sherlock, gasping at the feel of the cool metal, even through his shirt. He returned his husband's kiss, standing on his toes to deepen it as he pressed his hips forward, trying to get closer to Sherlock. Now. He needed this _now_. "Please. Oh God, Sherlock, please." He begged against his partner's lips, moving a hand to dig in the pocket of his jeans before shoving the small package of lube against his husband's stomach.

Good. John was just as eager as he was. Maybe that would mean things would be okay between them after all. Sherlock took the small package once both of their trousers were down. He turned his husband around, his free hand scratching through the shirt lightly. He leaned forward and began kissing the back of his partner's neck. His other hand added the lube to John first, a couple of fingers sliding in and out for a moment before prepping himself.

John followed every movement that Sherlock made, pressing his face against the cool metal and pressing back into the scratches and the fingers prepping him. "Oh, Jesus," he whispered, spreading his legs as far as he could with his jeans around his ankles. "Christ, Sherlock, please," he whimpered, glancing over his shoulder. It had be a month, an _entire_ month. This needed to happen.

Sherlock continued to kiss John's neck and when the last of the lube was used up, he pressed into his husband with a moan. "John..." He trailed off, as he began a steady rhythm. He opted for a moderate pace. He didn't want something slow, he was feeling far too needy for that. Fast didn't seem like it would be a good idea since it had been a month since he had last shagged his partner. He pressed the rest of his body into John's tightly, his free hand using the wall for support as he continued to scratch with his other.

There it was. John let out a low moan, dropping his head to give Sherlock better access to the back of his neck. They were shagging in the cargo hold of a plane on the way to their honeymoon. "Fuck, Sherlock." His hips snapped back to meet his husband's thrusts, his hands curling against the cold metal in front of him. One thrust sent him forward, smashed against the metal, and he gasped at the cold sensation on his erection.

Sherlock continued his pace. He figured it would take a bit to get off since he John had jerked him off in the car on the airport. The hand scratching his husband's back dropped and moved to the front. He found his partner's cock and began pumping the penis in time with his thrusts. Every few thrusts or so, his knuckles would get smashed into the metal but he didn't care. This was all too amazing. Perfect. "God John," he breathed into his husband's ear and then began to nibble on it lightly.

John wanted to reply, to beg for more as his hips pressed forward into the warmth of Sherlock's hand and back into the anchor of his body. His mouth opened but all he could do was moan, was think about Sherlock. After a month without shagging he was literally turning to mush. "Sherlock," he whispered, pressing his ear into his husband's mouth eagerly. "Sherlock," he repeated with a gasp and a strangled cry. Hold on. Don't go. Stay with Sherlock. Together. He dropped a hand to reach behind and tangle in Sherlock's hair, tugging slightly.

Sherlock growled into John's ear when his hair was pulled. He continued his set pace in and out of his husband. His hand continued the same rhythm as well, still ignoring his now bruised knuckles. His fingers scratched against the metal, as they sought for traction and failed. He didn't want this to end but he could tell he was close to his climax.

That was it. Too much. The senses rushing through John's body were wonderful and perfect but _Christ_. Between the cold metal pressed against his face and the warmth of Sherlock behind him, he knew it wasn't going to last much longer. And he was right. He came with a shout, tensing and pressing roughly back into Sherlock. Relax. Let Sherlock finish. He slumped against the metal with a grunt, having enough energy to press his hips back into his husband several times.

Sherlock didn't last much longer after John. A few more thrusts and he came with a loud moan. He collapsed against his husband for some sort of support as he pulled out his partner. "…'sgood. Very… _very_ good John…" He managed to get out through gasping breaths. He wiped his hand off on the metal wall. It might be obvious if he had wiped it on trousers. He stayed leaned into John, his head resting on the other man's. His labored breaths started to even out. "Thank you. Love you."

John hummed in agreement, groaning softly. They had to be good now, had to stop dancing on egg shells around each other. "Love you too," he whispered as he sucked in a deep breath and his chest finally started moving normally. "Oh, God, wonderful." He pushed slowly away from the metal but grabbed one of Sherlock's arms. His world was still spinning and he was either going to vomit or pass out if he didn't keep hold of his husband. "Better than Scotland," he mumbled.

Sherlock supported John and his eyes furrowed in thought as he scrutinized his husband in the dim light. "You all right my dear doctor?" He pulled his partner a bit closer, his arms wrapping around the other man in a hug. He couldn't help but smirk at John. "This is better already? But we haven't broken anything yet." The smirk got bigger, clearly proud.

"Yeah. 'M fine," John whispered, clearing his throat. "Haven't done that in a while, think you might have broken me," he said with a short laugh, relaxing back into Sherlock. "We are in the bloody cargo hold of a plane, Sherlock," he whispered as a small chill ran through him. The plane rocked marginally and he giggled. "I am the luckiest man alive."

Sherlock smiled watching John. "We should probably head back before they miss us, yeah? Assuming they noticed we aren't in our seats. Depends on how observant they are really. Are you okay to walk?" He finally pulled up and did his trousers and then helped his husband get his jeans on properly. He grabbed his partner's hand gently and led him back the way they came.

John followed Sherlock, tripping over his feet once and narrowing his eyes in the darkness. "Bring a torch next time, yeah?" He joked smoothly, glancing up. "Christ, Sherlock...we are not getting back up there." He looked at his husband the best he could and smirked. "Shit." He paused and bumped Sherlock with his elbow. "Y'know, if we get caught, I think we might end up in jail."

Sherlock smirked a bit and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Yeah, I know but that is what makes it so exciting." He glanced up at where they had dropped down. He heard the toilet flush and he brought his fingers to his lips so John would be quiet. Once he heard the door open and close he waited but heard no more noise. "I will boost you up if you want, when it's open." Being tall had its advantages. He jumped and gripped the pipe attached to the toilet. He hung there for a moment and was about to start taking out the screws when he heard the door open and close again. Of course.

They were trapped. The chances of them finding a good amount of time to do everything and get out would be difficult. So would leaving the bathroom. John had been so turned on that he had just forgotten about everything else. "How are you going to get up?" He whispered softly, lifting his hand to rest on his husband's lower back as he hung on the pipe. Too long. They might have to get off the plane from the cargo hold. Quite a shame, really. He had rather enjoyed his few minutes in first class.

Sherlock had to let go of the pipe after awhile. Shit. It had seemed like a good plan at the time. Maybe they could sneak out after the plane landed, but the crew would notice that two were missing from the manifest at some point. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He went over the plans of the plane. "Might have another way out. Come on." He grabbed John's hand and began walking along, navigating the place like he was on a commercial airliner on a regular basis.

John followed his husband obediently and tripped over a few things. "Bloody genius," he whispered with a laugh, still walking a little funny. But he couldn't help but smile because this was perfect. They were back to normal. It wasn't tense and they were...married. He squeezed Sherlock's hand as they navigated the cargo hold.

Sherlock smirked. "We will come to a ladder soon. We should go up one at a time and at different intervals." When they came to a ladder, he indicated to John to be quiet. He listened for a moment and then climbed up to the door. He waited awhile longer and then opened the hatch a crack and he looked around. When it was all clear he climbed out. He was at the flight attendant's station in coach. He slipped down the aisle without drawing attention and found his seat with ease.

John watched Sherlock climb up and waited for several minutes before starting up the ladder. He paused at the top and when he didn't hear any noise he climbed up and moved quickly to his seat. "Right then." He shifted slightly with a small wince. One month without shagging and now he was just a tad sore.


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock smirked at John and took his hand. He leaned over to whisper in his husband's ear. "As much fun as that was, we probably shouldn't do that on the way home." He smirked again, squeezing his partner's hand. The seat belt light dinged on and with his free hand he clicked his into place.

John snorted and glanced at his husband. "We will probably be sick and tired of sex on our way back," he mumbled as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. He managed to put his seat belt on with one hand and looked around first class again. Amazing. He was one of those people. All because of Sherlock. "So, plans for tonight?" He asked mischievously

Sherlock's smirk returned and he shrugged. "I don't know. We can either stay in for the first day or two. Or we can spend time on the beach, roll around in the sand." The smirk got bigger. "We still have to take a bus down to the beach. Don't newlyweds make out like fools on the way to their honeymoon?"

"That depends," John replied. "Are there going to be other people on that bus?" He glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. As much as he loved his husband, he wasn't going to make out with him like some teenager in front of other people. He had already made a fool of himself on the plane. "I've...got an idea," he commented softly with a smirk. "I mean, if you are up for a surprise, that is."

"I don't know, there might be." Sherlock arched a brow. "Oh a surprise? That could be fun." He smirked. An announcement came on saying the plane would start descent soon. "Almost there my dear doctor." He squeezed John's hand again. "Do I get a hint or you going to hold me in suspense until we get there?"

A hint? Could he do that without completely giving it away? John smiled and leaned forward, gently meeting Sherlock's lips as his hands rested over the dog tags hanging around Sherlock's neck. Subtle. He could do subtle, no problem. He returned the squeeze to Sherlock's hand as he felt the plane starting to drop, a foolish grin tugging at his lips. A month in paradise with Sherlock was less than an hour away now.

Sherlock raised another eyebrow. "Is that it? Was that my hint?" He glanced down at the dog tags around his neck in thought. Now he was curious and trying to piece it together. Should he try though? Would it be better if it was a surprise? He was a curious man by nature so he continued to try to work it out.

"Aren't you a consulting detective?" John asked with curiosity, glancing out the window as the plane landed on the runway smoothly. "I don't want to give it away, Sherlock. Surprises are named that for a reason. If you figure it out then I will let you know but I'm not telling you." He grinned and stood slowly, clearing his throat. "Simple as that."

"Bah." Sherlock was determined to figure it out now. As the plane continued to descend, he tried to work out what John was up to. The plane finally landed and he still didn't think he was any closer to knowing what the surprise was. Maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He grabbed his carry on and got off the plane.

John followed after Sherlock with a grin, grabbing his hand with a squeeze. "You will find out if you are patient," he whispered as they pushed through people and finally made it out of the airport. A black car pulled up and John snorted, rolling his eyes. Of course. "Even in Italy," he commented out of the corner of his mouth.

"Patience isn't really my strong suit John." Sherlock got their luggage and eyed the black car. Was his older brother worried they would get kidnapped again if they took a taxi? He put the luggage away and climbed into the car. "Mycroft has a lot of connections. It should hardly come as a surprise."

"If you wait it will be better when it happens," John whispered as he climbed into the back of the car. "Promise." He glanced around the inside of the car with a grin. "You will be begging," he muttered with a raised brow, not bothering to look at his husband.

"Really? That sounds like quite the promise and surprise." Sherlock smirked at John. It didn't take long for the car to come to a stop at the bus station. "Is it before or after the bus ride, because I do believe we arrived a bit early and our bus doesn't leave for another hour. We could always find another restroom..."

"Hate to break it to you but this surprise must wait," John said softly as he got out of the car. "For it to _really_ work you will have to wait until we're at the beach house." He smiled and grabbed his and Sherlock's bags from the trunk. "If you will be able to stop we could always make out."

"Wait until the beach house? You are going to make me wait that long?" Sherlock smirked and shrugged. Now that they had started again after a month, he couldn't...didn't want to keep his hands off John. It was like he needed to make up for lost time. "Making out could work, but are you sure you want to with all these people around?" The smirk returned.

John glanced at his husband with a small smile and glanced around the bus station. It was a tad crowded. "Isn't that what the bathroom is for, my dear husband?" He smiled and stood on his toes, placing an open mouthed kiss on the side of Sherlock's neck, his tongue lapping at the skin for a moment before he pulled away and looked around innocently.

Sherlock smirked and nodded. He checked their luggage in, grabbed John's hand and led his husband to the restroom by following the signs in Italian with ease. No one was in there, for now. He backed his partner into a wall, too eager to bother with a stall. His lips found John's immediately, his body pressing against the other man's. One hand rested on the wall, while the other ran through his husband's hair.

John opened his mouth instantly, moaning softly as both of his arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck. This was a pleasant change from the past month. Sherlock couldn't keep his hands to himself. Good. Very good. He shifted and tensed his body, quickly lifting his lower body and wrapping both of his legs around his husband's waist. Even better. His tongue moved to tangle with Sherlock's, a hand moving to tangle in his husband's unruly hair.

Sherlock supported John easily, with a little help from the wall. He bucked his lower torso into his husband's. Was this going to turn out to be more than making out? Oh God, he hoped so. At this rate it could be very real option. Despite getting off twice already today, he was certain he could make it a third time around. He continued the kiss, not caring about breathing at the moment.

John gasped into the kiss, his left hand clinching into Sherlock's suit jacket as his right tightened marginally in his husband's hair. He had tried to convince himself that this would be _just_ kissing. That was all. But now Sherlock was pressing against him, making everything feel wonderful. His mind was clouded with lust and he couldn't think straight. Without a second thought his hips rolled forward slowly. That felt wonderful. He pulled away from Sherlock's neck with a deep breath, tilting his head to suck at his husband's jaw.

Sherlock moaned when John rocked into him. Did they have anything for this time? He should have grabbed something from his suitcase before checking it in. Maybe his husband had something? He rested his head against his partner's. "Do you have anything by chance? Because another round with you sounds absolutely wonderful right about now." He pressed into John eagerly

Oh, shit. John took a deep breath and calmed himself, gently shaking his head. "No, I don't," he muttered softly, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Were they just going to stop now? Both of them would draw obvious attention to themselves if they walked back into the waiting area. He had an erection and it felt like Sherlock did as well. "D'you think we could get into our bags? Change pants?" He suggested.

Sherlock thought for a moment and then smirked. "Come on. Think I have a solution." He set John down gently and then tugged his husband to the nearest stall. He closed the door and locked it. "You can sit on the loo or I can. Then the other sits on the lap. Pull our pants down. Not so much mess. Use toilet paper to clean up." He was surprised he was thinking so clearly, because lust and desire was coursing through him.

Well, it was clear who the genius in the relationship was. John smiled slightly at his husband and pushed him to sit on the toilet, instantly moving to sit on his lap. His hands reached between them to undo Sherlock's trousers, moving to his own once they were. "Why can't we stop touching each other now?" He whispered against his husband's lips, gripping the other man's penis and giving it a fast stroke.

Sherlock sat down without complaint. He would have answered the question but his response was forgotten as soon as John's hand was on his cock. He moaned, his hips rocking forward into the man above him. One hand found his husband's penis and began to squeeze it with little pressure and began a steady rhythm. His other hand scratched at John's back lightly. He moved his head, so he could snog his husband once more.

"Oh, God." John returned his husband's kiss eagerly, whimpering as his hips rocked forward. "Love you. I love you." He forced the words out and batted Sherlock's hand away from his cock. Better idea. He moved forward and grabbed both of their cocks in his hand, stroking once as he rocked forward. Good Lord, too much sensation. Sherlock's penis on his own, his hand. He whimpered against his husband's mouth.

For a moment Sherlock was confused but it didn't take long to realize what John was up to. He moaned into his husband's mouth. Both of his hands sliding up his partner's shirt so they could scratch the skin underneath. "Love you too," he murmured behind the kiss. He didn't want to break the kiss, so he exhaled through his nose loudly.

John's hips snapped forward roughly and he moaned, his free hand moving to grip the back of Sherlock's neck. He was struggling to keep focused. He wanted to move forward and feel pleasure but he wanted to rock back into Sherlock's hands, into the scratches. Where had this man, the man with him _right_ now, been for the past month? He had missed this Sherlock.

"John…" Sherlock had to break the kiss, so air could reach his lungs normally. His breathing was erratic, but he didn't let that distract him. His fingers continued to dig into John's skin, beginning to leave red marks as they moved up and down. He was getting excited, his body rocking in time with his husband's strokes. "I love you," he repeated through ragged breathing.

"Love you too. Love you so much," John whispered, trying to keep quiet since they were in a bathroom. They had basically shagged twice today and he was already sensitive. It didn't take much for him. He came with a whimper, turning to clamp his mouth onto his husband's shoulder as he jerked against his husband. He shifted so only Sherlock's penis was in his hand and moved in quick, tight strokes.

Sherlock's arched his back from the bite, as he growled in excitement. He panted out a moan as he came, his body going limp immediately afterward. Christ, he was getting tired from all the physical work outs. "Think I'm going to nap on the bus." He leaned his head against John's shoulder, as he caught his breath.

Nap. Oh, that sounded perfect. John could go for a nap. "Yeah," he responded softly. He could barely talk. If somebody could be shagged within an inch of his life, John was that person today. A blow job in the airport in London, shagging in the cargo hold of a plane, and getting off in a bathroom at in Italian bus stop. Life really couldn't get much better. "We are certainly not getting any younger."

"I most certainly need a nap so I have enough energy for whatever you have planned at the beach house." Sherlock smiled and moved in to kiss John once more. Not aggressive like before, he didn't have the energy. Just slow and deliberate, his tongue moving inside of his husband's mouth after a few moments. His hands remained up his partner's shirt but they were no longer scratching, only holding the man on top of him in place.

John returned the kiss calmly, one hand moving to press against the side of the stall to keep him in place, the other staying tangled in Sherlock's hair. He could do this for the rest of his life. Kiss Sherlock, shag him, and sleep. There shouldn't be outside needs like money or food. Just his husband. "I can literally sleep standing up so I should get a good nap in on the drive," he whispered as he pulled away, his hand sliding down the wall to grab some toilet paper and slowly start cleaning them.

Sherlock smirked a bit and relaxed slightly. Why hadn't they been doing this since getting home from his mother's? They had done more in one day than the last month. He supposed that was his fault. He had tried talking to John like Mycroft had suggested but at the last minute he backed out, and become withdrawn into his music. Never again. There would never be another month like that again. Not if he could help it.

"All good," John whispered, leaning forward to place a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. It was clear his husband was lost in thought, something he had been doing a lot recently. He figured some of it, well most of it, had been him. He had been forcing things on Sherlock, trying to domesticate him, and it must have gotten to him. The man had composed at least fifty songs in the past month. He'd tried to stop but couldn't help himself. Maybe this honeymoon would be good for both of them. "The bus will probably be here soon. Hell, half the lobby might have heard us."

Sherlock had been so lost in thought he almost hadn't heard John speak. "What? Oh. Yes. Everything is perfect." He gave his husband a genuine smile before it twisted into a smirk. "Good. I hope they did. Nothing wrong with everyone knowing I love you. All of Baker Street surely does by now." The smirk broadened and when his partner got up, he did too. He pulled up his trousers and buttoned them into place.

John redid his jeans slowly and opened the stall, glancing around. They'd gotten luck that nobody had walked in and discovered them, unlike London. "I could go without Italy knowing how much I enjoy shagging you. There is a reason the beach is private, Sherlock." He turned to rest his hand over the dog tags on Sherlock's chest. "Can't wait to spoil you." He placed a slow kiss on his husband's lips and turned, leaving the bathroom.

Sherlock smirked a bit and shrugged. "You know me, I don't care who knows." He returned the kiss, smacked John's arse and then followed his husband out. He checked his watch, having adjusted for local time before leaving. The bus should be boarding now. "We are the last stop. Few hours away, so should be able to get a good nap in."

John jumped slightly at the smack from his husband, turning to smirk at Sherlock. "I care," he commented softly as he boarded the bus, glancing around. Rather empty and, wonderfully enough, two other couples who looked like they were off to their honeymoon. He found a seat near the middle and plopped into the window seat with a small smile. "The great Sherlock Holmes is going to sleep?" He said with a wry grin. "You haven't done that properly in a month," he commented softy. He had been sleeping alone for a while.

Sherlock sank into the seat next to John. He didn't know how to reply to the comment without inciting a fight. Instead he lifted the arm rest between them, took John's hand, and leaned his head on his husband's shoulder. No fighting on the honeymoon. Especially not when things were returning back to normal. Things were perfect and he didn't want anything to disrupt that.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand and smiled. It was good to see his husband trying to sleep. Given their ideas for the month, they were both going to need it. "Take your nap." He turned his head slightly and placed a kiss into Sherlock's unruly hair. A nap sounded wonderful and John let his head fall to rest on his husband's, his eyes closing as his body slowly relaxed and he fell asleep.

Sherlock took no time at all to sleep. He slept the entire trip down and was awoken by someone speaking rapid Italian at him. He grumbled and shifted. His eyes opened and focused on the bus driver. He apologized in the man's native tongue and squeezed John's hand. "Come on my dear doctor, we are here."

John shifted and glared at the bus driver as he woke up, looking at his husband with a small smirk. It was clear Sherlock had slept the entire trip. His hair was askew and John found it rather endearing. He stood slowly, moving off the bus and grabbing their luggage. It wasn't until he turned around that he was speechless. Nancy had _really_ out done herself. The beach house was small, but from the outside looked amazing. And from here he could see their private beach. "Oh my God."

Sherlock tipped the driver well because they had been driven out here per special request. No one said no to the Holmes family. He smirked at John. "Not only does my family fly in style but we also know how to take a holiday. There should be a boat house as well, in case you want to go sailing. Or shag in a boat on the sea." The smirk got bigger as he walked toward the house.

Shag on a boat. That would be fun. John watched Sherlock for a long moment before slowly following after him. Being married into the Holmes family was fantastic so far. He entered the beach house with a small chuckle. "Of course. It is bloody perfect." The kitchen was small but everything was brand new. It overlooked a living room with the biggest telly he had ever seen and a massive couch. "We probably have the biggest bed ever created in that bedroom."

Sherlock smiled. "Should be filled with food too. Probably not enough for the whole month but should still last us a week, maybe two." Jet lag, three shaggings, and lack of sleep over month, even by his standards, must have caught up with him. Even after the nap he was still tired. However John had something planned. He was certain he would sleep well tonight.

John smirked and moved into their bedroom. Naturally. The largest bed he had ever sat in the center of the far wall. A modest dresser and a closet, paintings that probably cost more than two of his Army paychecks hung on the walls. A door led to a bathroom that he was scared to look in. Probably a massive shower, massive bath tub. "I am going to shag you on every inch of this house," he commented as he set his bag on the bed.

Sherlock arched a brow. "Every inch, hm? I didn't bring a ruler, so we'll have to estimate." He smirked at John as he walked to the bathroom. He used the loo, flushed and washed his hands. "Full sized shower and Jacuzzi in here." He walked back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

"Let's just move out here with Amy," John said with a chuckle as he watched Sherlock. "So you are waiting, yeah? For my surprise? You look tired, do you want to go to sleep for a bit?" He moved forward slowly and straddled Sherlock's hips as he climbed on the bed.

Sherlock smirked a bit and shook his head. "I am fine. I can sleep after the surprise." He wrapped his arms around John, lips meeting his husband's immediately. He couldn't help but buck into the man above me. Here they were on their fourth go around and he was just as eager as the first time.

John pulled away from Sherlock's lips the moment he lifted his hips. "Stop, this isn't it," he admonished lightly with a smile on his lips. He moved to his feet slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Sherlock before grabbing his bag and backing toward the bathroom. "Think you can stay there for a few minutes?"

Sherlock just sat on the bed. He wasn't sure what to do next while he waited. Whatever John had planned he didn't want to ruin. He thought about undressing but then decided against it by the time he the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He wasn't a sit and wait kind of man. He began fidgeting on the bed, jut for the sake of doing something.


	21. Chapter 21

It didn't take John long. It shouldn't have, really, because it was muscle memory. He took a deep breath, standing at the door with his hand on the door knob. Deep breath. It will be fine. He slowly opened the door and stepped out, his Army uniform moving with the rapid breaths of his chest. "I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes," he said calmly. "I've been sent here to protect him." He smirked in his husband's direction, standing at attention.

Sherlock looked up at John. He hesitated in confusion before he finally realized what was going. This was one of those role plays things, right? They had never done that before or even discussed it but if that's what his husband had in mind he would play along. Who knows, it could turn out to be rather fun. He was willing to try anything at least once. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective, the only one in the world. May I know what you are protecting me from? Or is that a need to know basis?"

"Need to know, Sir," John replied swiftly, clearing his throat and glancing around the room. It was easy to act like this, second nature. "Odd name, Sherlock Holmes. Even more odd job," he commented in a bored tone, letting his eyes settle on his husband again. "Probably why you are here."

"Well, it isn't like I got to pick it." Sherlock shrugged with a smirk. "An odd job you say? I would ask what it is, but apparently it is need to know." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And why exactly am I here again? My memory seems to be a bit hazy at the moment." So far, he was most certainly interested and was wondering where this was going.

"You trying to be clever?" John asked, clearing his throat with a grin as he tore his eyes away from Sherlock. "Sir," he added with a small roll of his shoulders. "I am not going to tell you. I am not an idiot." He shifted slightly on his feet. Good, Sherlock was playing along. This was very good. "I am just here to protect you. Those are my orders."

"Well, being clever just so happens to be a specialty of mine. It is sort of a prerequisite to being a consulting detective." Sherlock smirked again. "So you have said. Here to protect me. In the middle of nowhere in Southern Italy. So, some sort of protective custody obviously." Had he gone too far with his impromptu role?

John Watson, civilian would have asked how the man knew they were in southern Italy. John Watson, soldier, merely studied Sherlock intently. "Quite," he replied with a small growl. Sherlock had added quite a small twist. "If you are such a bloody genius then why don't you go ahead and tell me why you are here, why don't you?" He took a step forward and clasped his hands behind his back.

"If you are wondering how I knew where we are. Simple. Out the window is a view of a beach. The water is clear, bluish green. Thus middle of nowhere. It isn't a lake or river. In the room are electrical outlets that are used in Europe, not the Americas. There are only so many countries along the water. Britain, Wales, Ireland, Scotland are all out of the question because it would be stupid to protect someone so close to where they live. It isn't any of the Norwegian countries, the geography is all wrong. So, simple process of elimination. Possibly Spain but extremely unlikely." Sherlock smirked, clearly proud of himself. "As for why I am here, I already know but I didn't want to seem like a show off but I guess it's too late for that now...isn't it?"

Impressive. John swallowed and shrugged. "I would have guessed you were a cocky bastard because people that attractive need to have a horrendous flaw, _Sir_." He lifted his eyes to glance out the double glass doors that led to their personal beach. "But I am not impressed. It doesn't take much to figure that out."

"It is hard to be as good looking as I am. It's a curse really. People are constantly flirting and trying to shag me. I'm not into that kind of thing. No time for someone with my kind of intellect." Sherlock smirked again. "I'm not trying to impress you…" He eyed the stripes and medals on the uniform, "…Captain. I have no need to impress the likes of you." If John was expecting him to be cocky and confident then he would be more than happy to play that role. It came natural to him after all.

John's chest puffed slightly at the use of his title. "Right. And if I just up and leave now the chances of you getting assassinated jump to one hundred percent. So I highly suggest you stop being an annoying dick." He moved across the room, studying everything with a bored expression. After a quick glance to Sherlock he sat on the other side of the bed, his back to his husband. "You make me want to punch something."

"I don't need you or anyone to protect me. I didn't ask for it you know. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Sherlock smirked even though John couldn't see him now. "You can try punching me, but then you might ruin this beautiful face of mine. You wouldn't want to do that, now would you?"

That was it. John shot to his feet and moved around the bed swiftly, looking down at Sherlock. "And I didn't ask to be put on assignment with some cocky bastard. So shut up and just sit there." He reached down and yanked Sherlock to his feet, pulling his husband against his body. "That's an order," he said lowly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit. "An order? Who are you to order me? I am a civilian not a soldier. You have no jurisdiction over me, _Captain_." He stood tall, staring down at the man in front of him. "You want me to do as you say? _Make me_!" The smirk returned, his eyes shining with excitement and mischief.

John turned both of them and pressed Sherlock against the wall. He rolled his hips slightly but kept a straight face, studying Sherlock confidently. "Don't make me go through the trouble of making it look like an accident," he whispered hotly. He tensed at his own words. Too close. Too real. He smirked and pressed his forearm lightly across Sherlock's neck. "Try me."

Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath from the closeness of their bodies. It was hard to focus now. Difficult to stay in character. He glared at John and struggled against the arm at his neck. "I will try you to the very end. You won't make me do or say anything that I don't want to do. Do your worst, Captain."

John let his eyes dart between Sherlock's before he pulled away, shoving a bit against his husband's body. "If I did that I might kill you. Wouldn't want that." He straightened his uniform with a small frown. It had gotten wrinkled. "Then it would be a bit counterproductive, wouldn't it?" He glanced at Sherlock, his eyes traveling down his husband's body. "Wouldn't take much, though."

"Is that all you got? The big bad Captain with a quick mouth but nothing to back it up?" Sherlock smirked. He brushed by John purposefully, striding over to the mirror above the dresser. He brushed and straightened his suit as if having his husband touch it had soiled and ruined its perfection. "You can't keep me here against my will you know. Think I will just leave and take my chances on my own."

John watched Sherlock for a long moment before moving toward him calmly. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to leave, Sir," he said with a bit of a raised brow. Bloody suit that formed perfectly to his husband's body. "I would be forced to chase after you, we'd probably get shot at. It would be a bloody mess." He straightened his posture and looked around the room. "The doors are locked from the outside anyway. You aren't going anywhere."

Sherlock turned to face John once more. "So, what you are saying is I am stuck here with you? Bloody perfect. What then? We going to play cards and tiddlywinks until it is safe? What if it is never safe? We just stay here forever? I could always just break a window and leave that way, you know. There are always ways around doors."

John shrugged nonchalantly and glanced around the room. "I don't know about you but I seemed to have left my _tiddlywinks_ with my other uniform." He sat on the bed and lifted up his uniform jacket, pulling his pistol from his belt and reaching into a pocket of his trousers. "But by all means, Sir, if you are so desperate to play tiddlywinks, I am sure we could figure something out." He pulled a bottle of gun oil from his pocket with a rag, setting to work on polishing his gun with rather provocative motions.

Sherlock watched John clean his gun, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I see you know how to handle your equipment Captain. Maybe I am safe in your hands after all." He sat down next to his husband. "I know this is hard to believe, but even though I'm a genius I might be able to learn a few things from you. _Maybe_. Or maybe I could teach you a few things, which is more likely."

"Oh? You think you could teach me something?" John didn't even look up from his task. "With all due respect, _Sir_ , I think I know what I'm doing. I have been in the Army for a while now." He finally looked away from his gun, smirking slightly at how close they were now. "You think you can properly handle my _equipment_?" Two could play at that little innuendo game.

"Oh I _know_ I can. I am quite adept at it, actually. I have a lot of hands on experience." Sherlock smirked at John. "You could let me give you a hand with that. It will give me something to do. I get bored easily. Rather keep busy." God, how much longer was this going to go? He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his hands off his husband. Focused. Concentrate. Stay in the role. Don't disappoint John.

Touch his gun? John tilted his head to the side fractionally and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Sorry, Sir, I guess you will just have to find some different equipment of mine to handle. Nobody touches this gun." He lifted his hand slightly and moved to rest it on the bed, leaning back on the bed and bracing himself with both of his arms behind him. Sherlock was struggling and John would keep at it until he broke, until he couldn't handle it anymore.

Fine. John wanted to draw this out, he would play along. "My mistake. I will just find my own equipment to handle then." Sherlock got up off the bed. He moved out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Distraction. Tea. That would do for now. He put on the kettle and got out a cup after searching a few cupboards. He was determined not to break first. Who would beg first had yet to remain to be seen.

John shifted and grabbed the gun oil, slipping it back into his pocket and slowly following Sherlock out of the room. "Sir, you are in danger out here," he commented as he turned to lean against the counter Sherlock was standing at. "But I guess I wouldn't mind a cuppa." He turned, standing close to his husband, their upper arms touching. "You interested in my _gun_ , then?" He asked softly.

"Can't very well hide in a bedroom my whole life, now can I?" Sherlock shrugged a bit. "I didn't make enough for you. If you want a cup, make it yourself." He cleared his throat and moved away from John when their arms touched. Detached. Cold. He had been such a master at it at one time. He was going to hold out damn it. Draw it out. It's what his husband wanted, wasn't it? Or did the other man merely want him to break down and beg?

Stubborn git, naturally. It was like the first day he had met Sherlock in the lab at St. Bart's. Fine. John moved and pinned Sherlock in the corner of the counter, looking up at him with calm features. "Going to act like you don't have a bit of a hard on in your pants then, Sir?" He whispered, making sure to stand close but keep his body from touching his husband's.

Gone. All the self control Sherlock had, was gone the instant John pinned him against the counter. "Hard not to when I have _adorable_ Captain in front of me." He snatched his husband by the shirt and pulled the other man forward fractionally so that their faces were inches apart. "What are you going to do about it?" He released the shirt and managed to regain his self control.

The first signs of Sherlock breaking. Wonderful. He ignored the adorable comment and glanced down at his husband's hands, smirking slightly. There it was. A small little bulge in the front of Sherlock's perfectly tailored pants. "I could stare at it," he muttered with a shrug. "I'm a Captain in the Army, Mr. Holmes. I don't think there is much more I can do with that unless you are a bit more specific. Bit more...convincing."

"Not really sure what you mean, Captain." Sherlock brushed by John once more and over to the whistling kettle. He poured the boiling water into the cup with practiced ease. He added a package of tea and stirred the concoction. Just concentrate on the beverage. After a few moments of the tea cooling he took a sip. He made a face. He had forgotten milk. Damn John and his wonderful distraction.

John couldn't help but grin as he turned to watch his husband. No milk. Sherlock had forgotten and he hadn't missed that little face he'd pulled. "Forget something, _Sir_?" He reached into the fridge and grabbed the milk, biting his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow. "You said earlier that you were smart, could put things together. Bit difficult to do it when you want to shag a certain Army Captain?"

Sherlock snatched the milk with a mock growl and poured it into his cup. He took another sip. Much better. "The Army Captain I want to shag isn't here right now apparently. All I have is _you._ That might be doable. Not sure if you are a suitable substitute though." He fell quiet after that, sipping his tea in thoughtful silence.

John moved closer to Sherlock. "Well, I would hope I would be decent," he whispered, reaching to grab the cup of tea out of Sherlock's hand and taking a sip. The entire time he watched his husband over the rim of the mug. "Except in this case _I_ would be doing the shagging." He leaned against the counter smugly and took another sip of the tea. "And you don't even know my name. That takes a lot."

Sherlock watched John drink the tea with an amused smirk. No sugar in it, yet his husband was still drinking it. Props to John for staying committed to the role. "If it is just a shag then names are irrelevant anyway aren't they? Unfortunately for you Captain, a man of intellect doesn't have time for your amorous advances."

"That explains why you pulled me closer a few minutes ago," John whispered as he finished the cup of tea. Straight face. Don't grimace. He swallowed it with a shrug, setting the cup in the sink. He moved forward slowly and ran a finger down Sherlock's chest, his eyes following his own finger before he looked up to meet his husband's gaze. "I guess hearing you shout 'Captain' in the throes of passion wouldn't be so bad."

Sherlock managed to ignore the first statement but he couldn't help but shiver from John's finger tracing along his chest. Come on. Keep it together. He smirked and shrugged. "Can't say I've ever done that. Why should I start now? Maybe you are the one who should be convincing _me_. Not the other way around Captain."

"You were the one complaining about being bored earlier, _Sherlock_ ," John spoke his husband's name lowly with a small tilt of his head. "I have got gun oil in my pocket and a bed just a few feet away." He licked his lips and took a step back, turning to walk back into the bedroom. Now it was just a waiting game to see if Sherlock followed him.

Sherlock hesitated. Follow? Don't follow? Fuck it. At this point his body was a raging mess of hormones and desire. He went into the bedroom. "Fine you win, Captain. Only because I'm bored. This is just a shag, it means nothing. So don't expect anything from me after that." He reached up and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

"Chances are I will be shot once I get sent back to Afghanistan so I hadn't really expected much from you any way." John reached into his pocket and tossed the bottle of gun oil on the bed, moving forward to stand in front of Sherlock. Stay in character. He looked up slowly and stood on his toes, meeting Sherlock's lips once hesitantly before pulling away. Good. That was good. He moved in for a second kiss and reached between them to start undoing his belt.

What John said hit a little closer to home than Sherlock would have liked. Don't react. Shit. Just don't think about it. The kiss helped mildly and he fought the urge to just embrace his husband tightly and never let go. He threw his shirt on the floor once it was completely unbuttoned. Stay in control, he reminded himself again. Sometimes being stubborn paid off because it was the only thing keeping him together right now. He wasn't going to ruin this for John.

John pulled away and glanced at the shirt, studying it intently before turning back to Sherlock. "Tell me what you like," he muttered as his fingers curled into the waistband of his husband's trousers, tugging him closer to the bed. "Fast? Slow?" He shrugged as his free hand finally managed to get his belt undone. He finished with his trouserd and let his pants and underwear fall halfway down his thighs. "Bed. Don't care how you lay," he muttered as he reached over and grabbed the gun oil.

At this point Sherlock didn't trust himself to speak. He undid his trouserd and slid them down with his underwear. He let them drop to the floor and he stepped out and over the clothing and laid down on the bed, so his back was on the sheets. "Whatever you want," he finally said. "Please?" He didn't care that he was begging _now_ ; his voice was a mixture of need and desire with just the tiniest hint of fear. He needed John now. Needed to reassure himself that this was real and his husband was safe. No more war. No more kidnappings. Just them on their honeymoon.

John hesitated for a moment and studied Sherlock. Too real? He unzipped his uniform jacket and let it fall to the floor. "Okay," he muttered, clearly a bit broken now himself. Shit. He had upset Sherlock. He bent down to undo his boots, kicking them of and yanking his trousers and boxers off. Comfort. Make him happy. He crawled on the bed and moved to settle in between Sherlock's legs, gently meeting his husband's lips. "I can do that," he whispered.

Desperate need gripped Sherlock suddenly. He bit John's bottom lip when they kissed. "I lied. I do care. Fast. Hard. Rough. _Please_." He wrapped his arms around his husband, his fingers digging into the skin on the other man's back immediately. He pulled his partner closer, his lips finding John's neck and he began sucking and biting on it.

John grunted against Sherlock's lips and exposed more of his neck for his husband. "Okay," he gasped out, reaching over to grab the gun oil. There was so much happening to his body and he couldn't help but moan loudly. Scratching. Biting. "Shit." He opened the bottle and messily poured some oil on two of his fingers, reaching between them to enter Sherlock and move at a rapid pace to prepare him.

Once one side of John's neck was marked, Sherlock went to work on the other side. He let out a loud, throaty growl when he felt the fingers inside of him. He jolted forward into the probing phalanges with a moan. His fingers continued to scratch, digging deeper in his excitement. Thin red streaks began to form on his husband's back.

How had they not done this in the past few months? John gasped and moaned, his back arching into the scratches. He couldn't wait any longer, pulling his fingers out of Sherlock. "Love you." He grabbed the gun oil and poured more in his hand, slicking up his cock before situating himself. He grabbed one of Sherlock's legs and lifted it to rest on his shoulder, glancing at his husband before entering him with one fast thrust forward.

Sherlock took a moment to stop sucking on John's neck. "But you only just met me Captain." He gave his husband a smirk but it was short lived when he felt his partner enter. He moaned, his head dropping back onto the pillow. His fingers continued to scratch, his lower body moving in time with the man above him.

"Don't care," John growled back. "Sometimes you j-just know." He sucked in a breath as his hips started a rough pace, fast and hard. One hand lifted to grab the headboard. They had been pushed slightly up the bed with every thrust and he needed to stop it. His other hand move to run down his husband's chest, stopping at his belly button. He moaned as his hips snapped forward quickly three times.

Sherlock had to drop his hand from John's back and onto the bed. His fingers tangled into the sheets to help grip him in place. His eyes closed, as he took it all in. A moan escaped his lips every time he felt his husband thrust inside deeper. He continued to rock in time with his partner.

"Loud, are you Mister Holmes?" John managed to stutter out. The muscles in his torso tensed as his hips moved forward faster, the hand holding Sherlock's leg on his shoulder digging into the skin. His hand slid from the headboard and gripped his husband's hip, holding him still and pinning him to the mattress. His thrusts got more aggressive as he stopped Sherlock from moving. "Want me to touch you, Sir?" He growled.

Sherlock cracked open an eye to stare up at John, a slight smirk on his. "Like control do you Captain?" Both eyes opened and he held the gaze for a moment before looking away, a sign of his submission. "Yes Sir, Captain Sir. Please?" His gaze traveled back to his husband briefly before glancing away demurely again.

Complete control. This was the first time John had ever been given complete control. He smirked down at Sherlock and moved his hand off of his husband's hips, moving to grab his cock. He kept his hand still for a moment as his thrusts pushed him harder against Sherlock. After a long moment his hand started a fast, tight rhythm on Sherlock's erection.

Come to think of it, Sherlock had never really given control to John before. They had tried before but at some point he'd always taken it away from the other man. He was determined to let his husband be in charge this time. His body relaxed a bit as his partner rammed into him, a moan escaping each time. Between having John inside of him and his husband jerking him off, he was in a state of ecstasy bliss.

"Fuck, yes." John let out a loud moan as he moved to straighten his back. Less contact with Sherlock just added to their roles and to his power. "Tell me how much you like it," he demanded with a low moan. "Talk about it. Want to hear your voice." His hips slowed slightly as he waited for the man below him to comply.

Sherlock couldn't help the brief smirk the crossed his lips. John was really enjoying his role. God, why was it such a turn on? With effort he managed not to make himself squirm in all the excitement. "Oh Captain, don't stop. Please. Need you." One hand reached up to gently stroke along his husband's arm, craving a bit more contact but quickly let it drop back to his side.

"Ah, God." John let the muscles in his arm tense at Sherlock's touch. His hips started moving faster instantly, his eyes narrowed as he locked his focus on the hand wrapped around Sherlock's penis. "God, you feel wonderful," he muttered as his hips moved faster. He was hitting Sherlock with his hips hard enough to make him wince slightly. "Ah, Christ, Sir." His head dropped and his eyes slid closed.

Sherlock's grip on the sheets returned, as he wrapped the bedding around his fingers and turning them white with the strain. His eyes closed again as he tried to control his increasingly rapid and irregular breaths. "…'sgood…" He managed to slur out. After having climaxed three times today already he was surprised he had lasted so long. With a shout, his body tensed as he came. His body relaxed once more, the intakes and outtakes of air rapid and sharp.

John watched Sherlock with a proud smirk, thrusting into his husband a few more times before he came. He fell forward, catching himself with his elbow on either side of his husband's head, his hand wiping Sherlock's mess down the man's chest with a smirk. "That was good, Sir," he muttered with a sharp intake of breath.

Sherlock looked down at his chest with an arched brow. He took a moment to catch his breath before speaking. "I am going to need to clean up now Captain. Care to join me in the shower? Is that safe? I don't need your permission now do I Captain?" He sat up on the bed, not sure how long this role play was actually supposed to last so he just decided to keep it going.

"Hush, Sherlock," John giggled and rolled off of him, resting on his back. It was clear he was proud of himself. "I just shagged you with gun oil." His eyes closed and he laughed. "Want me to shower with you? That was in the moment, I swear. Sorry." He let his eyes move down to his husband's chest sheepishly.

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "Only if you want to my dear doctor." He got up off the bed and walked to the bathroom, with a slight sideways limp. He flicked on the light and started the water, letting it run for a bit. He ignored the water that splashed onto the floor, as the temperature of the water rose. God, he hurt but it had been worth it. He finally entered the shower, making room in case John had followed after.

From the way his husband walked it was obvious that John may have been a bit rough. He moved from the bed slowly and moved into the bathroom, moving slowly into the shower. "Sorry." He stood behind Sherlock and placed a soft kiss on his husband's shoulder blade. "Didn't mean to hurt you." His hands slid to his partner's lower back and gently massaged the muscles there. "Guess I won't be doing that again anytime soon." He chuckled and pressed his forehead against Sherlock's back.

Sherlock smiled and leaned into John's body a bit. "It's fine. I asked for it rough." He just stood there for a moment, letting the hot water spray over him. It was nice just to stand there in his husband's arms. Nothing to worry or care about. Just here and now. This moment. Perfect. With any luck the whole month would go this well.

John wanted to live in this moment for the rest of his life, keep Sherlock safe and close to him forever. "Got a bit into the moment," he admitted softly. They had never tried anything like that before but John was feeling a bit daring after everything they had done so far today. "Did you like it?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yeah. Different but fun." He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Liked it. Like when you have control like that," he admitted softly. He had never planned on telling John that ever but until today things between them had been strained. Perhaps with this new start he should being a little more honest…open.

John couldn't help the small smile on his face. "That's good. I liked it. Very new for me." He let his tongue dart out to lick up Sherlock's spine, his arms winding around his husband's waist and squeezing. "We have got a whole month to do stuff like that. But next time I will try not to hurt you."

Sherlock's eyes closed and he leaned against John further. "I love you." He didn't really care about the shower at this point. Just being with his husband was enough right now. He slid his hands down the length of his partner's legs until he couldn't reach anymore and then trailed back up the way they came.

If John Watson had to pick his favorite thing it would be when Sherlock Holmes said 'I love you' first. Those words out of his mouth meant the most. "I love you too," he murmured into his husband's back. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." And he didn't care if it sounded cheesy. It was true. Without Sherlock he would have ended up with a bullet through his skull. One he put there himself.

Sherlock finally turned around to face John. He pressed forward gently, so his husband would be against the shower wall. He leaned down and met his husband's lips. The kiss was slow but purposeful. One hand rested against John's hip and the other rested next to his husband's head against the slick wall. The water was no longer hot, but the cooler temperature didn't deter him from kissing John.

Had Sherlock read his mind? Felt how tense John was and figured out everything together? Because his second favorite thing was Sherlock starting a kiss, especially slow ones that left him breathless. He opened his mouth without hesitation, surrendering to Sherlock's as he lifted his arms to wrap around his husband's neck. If there was ever a doubt that something was still wrong between them it was definitely gone now. His hip pressed slightly against Sherlock's hand as he let his tongue move slowly into his partner's mouth.

Sherlock whimpered into John's mouth as their bodies pressed together even more. By no means was he ready for another go again, but he enjoyed how close they were. He had missed it. Now he couldn't stop touching his husband, needing constant physical contact. He wanted to keep the kiss going so he began breathing heavily through his nose.

Breathing heavy through his nose. Didn't want to pull away. Fuck, John loved Sherlock. His tongue ran across the roof of Sherlock's mouth before he slowly pulled away. He needed to breathe. "I love you," he whispered as he placed a peck on his husband's lips. "I love you," he repeated with another kiss.

"I love you too." Sherlock shivered from the now icy cold water. He looked down at John with a small smile, his hand coming up to stroke his husband's face. Another chill rippled through his body and he moved away from his partner and turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower, quickly dried off and then used another dry towel to wrap around himself to help contain what body heat he had left. He turned to look at John with a smirk. "I think you are going to have to warm me up my dear doctor. Perhaps snuggling under the covers would help."

John stepped from the shower with a small laugh. "I think I could do that," he whispered with a small smile, running his towel over his body before drying off his hair. "It shouldn't be too bad." He walked by Sherlock with a mischievous smile. They couldn't shag anymore, John wasn't as young as he used to be. But snuggling? He could do that. He moved to lay on the bed, tossing off the top blanket. It was coated in gun oil, they would need to wash it. He lifted the blanket that was left and smiled up at Sherlock. "C'mon," he whispered.

Sherlock didn't need a second invitation. He dropped the towel on the floor and crawled under the covers with John. He snuggled in next to his husband immediately. His head rested on his partner's chest, an arm draping over the other man's stomach. He laid on his side, he was still tender. "Tired," he mumbled before closing his eyes. His whole body relaxed and his breathing became slow and even as sleep over took him.

Sleep. Sherlock was sleeping next to him. They hadn't done this in a month. He had started to realize he would be sleeping on his own but now he wondered how he ever did it. John glanced down at his husband with a warm smile, studying his face as he slept. Relaxed. Pressed against his side. John wasn't ready to fall asleep, wasn't ready to face the nightmares that always waited for him. Before long, though, he couldn't fight it anymore and fell asleep holding Sherlock close to him.


	22. Chapter 22

Sherlock slept awhile. It was dark when his eyes opened. He groaned quietly, shifting slightly so he could look at the watch on his wrist using the moon light shining through the window. It was a little after four in the morning local time. He had gone to bed cold but was now warm snuggled into John's side. He lifted his head to glance up at his husband's face.

John woke slowly as he felt Sherlock's chest movements change with his breathing. Christ, it was dark still. Why was his husband awake? He groaned and opened his eyes, blinking several times as he finally focused on Sherlock. "Morning," he muttered lowly, his eyes slipping closed again. "How did you sleep?"

"Best sleep I have had in awhile," Sherlock admitted. "Sorry if I woke you. If you are still tired go back to sleep. I will still be here when you wake up. Too warm and comfortable to leave." He gave a small smirk and a sideways hug to his husband.

"No, ' sfine." John lifted his free hand and rubbed at his eyes with a yawn. They had literally shagged non-stop yesterday. How could Sherlock be awake? He wasn't going to fall asleep, either. His dreams were slowly morphing into the desert of Afghanistan. He didn't want to go back. "We could go watch the sunrise. Snog on our private beach," he offered with a still sleepy voice.

Sherlock sat up slowly, grimacing a bit. Christ, he still hurt. Felt more sensitive this morning than yesterday. He was already missing the warmth of his husband and the sheets. He didn't feel like getting dressed but didn't want to sit on the sandy beach in the nude. He had a robe packed in his luggage. He stood finally and began looking through his clothes.

John watched Sherlock with a bit of a frown. "Sorry," he muttered with a bit of a rueful smile in his husband's direction. He felt bad that his husband was in pain but _he_ had done that. He was a bit proud. How could he not? "I will take that as a yes, then. You standing up." He pushed the blanket away slowly and moved toward his bag, yanking on a new pair of boxers and pajama pants. Shirtless. Might as well, they were going to be on the beach. And that way Sherlock wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of him.

Sherlock slipped into his robe once he found it. He smirked at John with a shrug. "It is fine my dear doctor." He walked up to his husband and took his hand. He led his partner out of the house and out to the beach. He gazed up at the stars, orienting himself directionally. "Come on. Sun will rise over this way."

John followed Sherlock without question, smiling softly at the feel of the sand beneath his toes. "Want to be near the water," he whispered as he jogged slightly to catch up to Sherlock. It was wonderful out on the beach. Barely any light so they could see almost every star, see the flow of the Milky Way. "Y'know, in Afghanistan, I would sit and count the stars in the sky before I went to bed. Not much else to do in a little hole in the ground." He squeezed his husband's hand. "And last time...I thought of you with me, telling me how silly it was to try and count them all."

Sherlock stopped by the shoreline, the water lapping at their feet gently. It was a nice, calm night. Perfect weather for their perfect and much needed getaway. He laid down carefully, laying on his side once more. When John was next to him, he leaned into his husband and took his partner's hand yet again. He smirked a bit, certain John would laugh at him for this next statement. "Nice night." Weather. Of all things to talk about he was discussing something so domestic. What was his world coming to?

What the...? "I cannot believe I just heard you say that," John whispered in shock, turning his head slowly to glance at his husband. "Are we discussing the weather? Sherlock Holmes, Hell just froze over." He grinned and moved his head to gently meet Sherlock's lips, squeezing his hand. "I love you, you silly git," he mumbled against Sherlock's lips, smiling tiredly. "And yes, it is a nice night."

Sherlock grinned back and shrugged as he returned the kiss. "Well, technically it is morning now." The grin twisted into a smirk. "Love you too dear doctor." He shifted a bit, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder. "You are tired. You should have gone back to sleep." He gave his husband's hand a squeeze.

"I wanted to spend time with you," John explained softly. For the first time in thirty days he had gotten to sleep in the same bed as Sherlock, wake up with his husband's warm body next to him. "Wanted to take advantage of it." He looked up at the stars and slowly let his eyes close. The sand on his bare back was cool and the feeling of the waves on his feet, the sound of the water, was almost too relaxing. His breathing got shallow and the grip on his husband's hand relaxed slightly.

Sherlock smiled. John might get more sleep after all. Good. His husband needed more sleep than he did. Hopefully nightmares wouldn't plague his partner. They had gotten pretty bad over the last month. Probably his fault for being so distant but damn it he was going to fix it. Everything that had happened since leaving the flat was proof of that. Things finally seemed to be getting back to normal for them.

Sand. John felt sand. He slept for fifteen minutes before he jolted awake and took a deep breath. Water. Not a desert. Shit. He cleared his throat and glanced down at Sherlock. That's right, honeymoon. He was supposed to be watching the sunrise with his husband. "Y'know...the past month," he paused. Was it a good idea to bring this up? They hadn't discussed it at all, just danced around each other tensely. But everything was fine now, wasn't it? "I wanted to apologize for anything I did to upset you. I want to because I don't ever want to be in a bed alone. I don't care if it sounds selfish and I don't care if you are tired, but I _will_ fall asleep in your arms every night."

Sherlock frowned and he was quiet awhile, his body tensing a bit. There went their perfect time. "John…" He started off tentatively, unsure where he was going with this. "…when we get back home, I am going to start working again. You know how I get when I'm on a case. I could end up being gone for a couple days at a time…" He sighed internally. He hadn't wanted to fight while on their honeymoon but it seemed to be heading in that direction anyway.

Oh, right. Cases. Sherlock had a job, he had just stopped doing it for God knew how long. "I will make an exception," he stated softly, looking down at Sherlock. "And only if I get one of your coats or silly silk robes to put on a pillow that I can snuggle with. And that's the _only_ way you will be allowed to leave," he stated seriously with a bit of a smile on his face. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to feel close to Sherlock. His hand lifted and reached across his body to run gently through his husband's hair. "I was thinking of taking a job at the surgery anyway," he added. "At Barts, y'know? So I might have to work some nights."

Sherlock merely nodded. This wasn't really a conversation he wanted to be having right now. Stubborn and childish? Probably, but when wasn't he either of those? If John took the job for surgery, would that mean he would work cases alone? That would be…weird… It certainly wouldn't be the same. He started off working alone, so it really shouldn't be that much of change…right?

Silence. "I know you want me to work with you, Sherlock," John whispered softly, meeting his gaze and holding it. "But we have got a family now. One of us needs a steady income. The cases pay so well, Sherlock, but they are just...you know, not an everyday thing." He frowned. The moment was ruined, wasn't it? Because he couldn't keep his bloody mouth shut. Fix it. He shifted and rolled, spreading his legs to straddle Sherlock before gently meeting his husband's lips.

"Stop John," his voice was colder than he had intended. Sherlock gently shoved John away. They couldn't just keep trying to solve their problems by shagging, or kissing, or any kind of intimate contact. Sure it worked for a little while, but it was obvious it wasn't a permanent solution. So, how were things going to work themselves out now? Talking about it didn't seem to be helping either.

John grunted slightly and looked down at his husband, lips pursed. "Sorry," he muttered, standing up and glancing back out at the water. "I will be inside." He lowered his head and walked back toward the house. Fuck it. He had just tried to talk, to work something out, because, yes, they had shagged like rabbits yesterday but that wasn't going to fix the past month. He'd slept alone in their bed, had nightmares that made him scream so loud he'd woken Amy up, scared her. And he would never know why, would only say 'Oh, it was Sherlock being Sherlock' and try to brush it off. But he couldn't. He couldn't just forget that. He reached the double doors to their room and froze for a moment before opening one and going into the house.

Sherlock sighed. Space. Was that what they needed right now? Yeah, because that had worked out so well for the past month. He honestly didn't know what do. How to work through this. He thought they had agreed to start over. A clean slate. John just wasn't ready to let go, he supposed. He sighed again, as he just laid on the beach and watched the sun coming over the horizon alone.

Bed. If John went to the bed he could go back to sleep, forget it. Maybe by the time he woke up everything would be right again. Maybe he would learn how to keep his mouth shut and just move on. He needed to learn that Sherlock was different, that last month was _last_ month and he apparently didn't care. He flopped into the bed, on Sherlock's side, and curled himself tightly into the blanket. It smelled like him. Like expensive soap and wonderful after shave and...Sherlock. It made his stomach twist as he forced his eyes to shut.

Time. Whoever said time makes all things better, that it heals all wounds was a bloody idiot. Sherlock furrowed his brows in thought, eyes squinting against the new day's light. He really wasn't sure if staying out here or going in to check on John was the better choice. He supposed, he would never know. Relationships or social interaction period, had never really been something he was particularly good at. Oh but how he had tried. He had tried, for John.

Of course he wasn't going to sleep. John was upset and he never could sleep while he was all worked up. He violently kicked the blanket off of him, shouting slightly as he moved to his feet. Talk. They needed to talk. He opened the door and moved quickly through the sand. "We need to talk. I don't care if you don't want to, we are both going to stop acting like children and fucking talk." He plopped on to the sand next to his husband, glancing out at the rising sun. "We are married. We have got...to communicate, Sherlock. We haven't been."

Genuine surprise was what Sherlock felt when he heard and saw John. Talk. Right. Bloody fantastic. He was great at talking, but not about this. Not at talking about anything emotional. "Fine. Go ahead talk." Maybe if he let his husband go first, then he would be able to come up with the right answer or at least come up with a solution for this madness.

John turned to glance at Sherlock's face over his shoulder, curling to hug his legs to his chest. "The past month...something went wrong. It happened at your Mum's and I was scared," he stated simply. "I was afraid that you thought marrying me was bad. That you regretted it. So I didn't talk to you for a month. Didn't...ask if you wanted tea, didn't ask if you were coming to bed or if you were going to sleep." His head dropped so his chin could rest on his knees. "We didn't even...kiss, Sherlock. A month after our wedding, while we should have been shagging five times a day." He shrugged the best he could. "I just...wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot, alright? I wanted you to know that I still love you, that I don't regret marrying you...that I want this month to fix everything."

Sherlock listened quietly, eyebrows creased in thought. Up until coming outside, he had thought things _were_ fixed. They were supposed to be starting over but here they were anyway. Really, he was over it but John wanted to talk about. He supposed this was what couples did. Being married was more complicated than he had anticipated. "When we were at my Mum's I was getting frustrated. I felt like you were trying to change me in ways, I really have no intent or desire to change John." He shrugged.

"I realized that, Sherlock, which is why I stopped asking you if you wanted dinner, if you were coming to bed." John rolled on to his back and let his head move so he could study his husband. "So I'm going to stop, alright? If you want dinner then I will know that you should approach me. I shouldn't force it on you." He reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand and squeezed it. "I'll remember that you don't sleep all the time and I'll have to live with it."

If John had realized all that, then why in God's name were they having this conversation to begin with? Sherlock just decided to nod in agreement. Great. Now what? This had quite possibly be the most pointless conversation he'd ever had with John. At least, that was how it seemed to him. He squeezed his husband's hand back, because he didn't know what else to do at this point in junction.

"I'll keep working with you if you want," John said softly. "I don't have to go to Bart's. We can solve crimes. Or...you can solve crimes and I can pretend to help." He turned slightly and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

Sherlock turned to look at John, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. He enveloped his husband in a sideways hug, squeezing as tightly as he could at the slightly awkward angle. "Yes, I would like that." He placed a kiss on the side of his partner's head. "I love you too."

John smiled happily and closed his eyes. There. Smiling and hugging. Better. He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw, pressing himself against his husband. "Sherlock," he whispered as a hand moved to tangle in the other man's hair.

Despite being sore, Sherlock had an overwhelming need to shag John again. He squeezed his husband closer. His lips found his partner's ear and he began sucking on it, nipping on the bottom lobe every now and then. "Want you again," he admitted quietly. His body squirmed into John's with desire.

"You are sore," John replied softly, moving his hand to Sherlock's back, digging into the robe with a small gasp. Christ, his husband's mouth was wonderful. "Are you sure?" Because this time he would go slow, let Sherlock know how loved he was, how lucky John was to have him. "Have to go inside, don't have anything."

Sherlock nodded. Using some kind of lubrication was important. He had found that out the hard way, from no fault of his own. He released John, stood and then helped his husband to his feet. He grasped his partner's hand and led them back to the beach house.

John stumbled after Sherlock in the sand, smirking slightly at how fast they were walking. "Tell me to stop if you are in pain," he instructed as they entered the house. He turned to his bag and dug through a side pocket, turning to toss it on their bed. As he walked toward the bed he pulled down his pajama bottoms and boxers, diverting to passionately meet his husband's lips. "I love you. I am sorry about this morning," he said against Sherlock's lips. "Let me make it up to you."

As soon as they got in the bedroom Sherlock disrobed. He returned the kiss and gave a small smile. "You are right, we need to work on communication. Something I am not good at or used to but I will try and work on it." He wrapped John in a hug, holding onto him tightly for a moment and then moved in for another kiss.

John returned the kiss eagerly. Sherlock was agreeing to talk, to work on communicating. He had never wanted Sherlock so bad. "Bed," he begged against his husband's lips, wrapping his arms around Sherlock. "I love you. Need you," he whimpered as he pressed against him. He met Sherlock's gaze and held it, smiling warmly. "We will work on it together."

Sherlock pressed back against John for a moment before moving to the bed. He laid down, moving a pillow up so his head could rest comfortably against the headboard. "Since we will be here a month, we should probably wait to break this thing." He smirked up at John.

"Going to be gentle," John said softly as he knelt between his husband's legs. "I can let you...you are sore. Do you want to...?" Well, this was awkward. How did one phrase this without killing the mood? "I have got an idea if you are really okay." He bent down and gently met Sherlock's lips. "You could lay on your side, I could lay behind you, take you that way."

Sherlock smirked at John. It was always amusing to him to see his husband get flustered. "The side will be fine my dear doctor." He rolled over and laid on his side. Something new. He would never turn down a chance on that. It would probably make contact limited though, for him at least.

John took a deep breath and shifted to lay behind Sherlock, grabbing the lube and putting some on his fingers. "I will wrap my arm around you," he whispered into Sherlock's ear as two fingers entered his husband. "You can reach back, run your hand through my hair." His hips pressed forward fractionally, his erection pressing against his husband's lower back eagerly. "Can't move as well this way, won't hurt you." His fingers moved slowly as he moved to place soft kisses against the back of Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smiled even though John couldn't see it. He moaned as soon as he felt the fingers enter. The kisses felt wonderful, his eyes closing as a shiver of pleasure rippled through his body. Should work. Different angle, so the area that was tender should be fine. Yes, this would work perfectly.

John pulled his fingers away after a few more moments, getting some more lube and stroking his cock several times. Slow. Don't hurt Sherlock. "I love you," he whispered as an arm moved to wrap around Sherlock's lower stomach. He pressed forward slowly, moaning loudly as he entered his husband. The arm around Sherlock's stomach tightened and pulled him back so they were pressed together, John hips moving slowly and shallowly against his husband. "Love you, fuck."

"Love you too," Sherlock replied as a hand came up to rest on John's. A moan escaped him, when he felt his husband enter. His other hand lifted and reached behind him as he groped blindly to reach his partner's head. Once he felt the soft bristles under his fingertips he began scratching lightly. "Oh God...John..." He trailed off to try and breathe properly.

"T-Tell me," John moaned, cutting himself off as he buried his face against the back of Sherlock's neck. "If it hurts," he whimpered out, his rhythm staying slow. "Here." He sat up slightly, lifting his knee and wedge Sherlock's legs apart. "Bring it back, rest it on top of mine," he muttered, his voice tight. His fingers curled against Sherlock's stomach, scratching lightly as he continued his movements. "Amazing," he whispered, nipping at the back of Sherlock's neck. "Sherlock, pick a name. It is God or John," he joked smoothly.

Sherlock complied with John's request. "...'sgood...don't stop..." He managed to breath out. He tilted his head down a bit so his husband would have better access to it. He snorted at the joke and was going to reply but he moaned instead, fingers scratching through John's head a little rougher. His other hand gripped on tightly to his husband's.

John gasped, his mouth hanging open for a moment as he panted against Sherlock's mouth. He would have to demand that Sherlock keep a hand in his hair every time the made love, it felt amazing. "Oh, yes, Sherlock." He froze for a moment, pressed entirely into his husband as he struggled to breathe. "I want you to know that you are the most amazing man I have ever met," a soft thrust forward, "That I am lucky to have you," another one, "And that you deserved to be loved for the rest of your life and that I hope I can do it."

Sherlock was trying to concentrate on breathing normally, so instead of replying to what John said he simply ran his thumb over his husband's soothingly. With every thrust he moaned, his fingers tugging a bit at any hair long enough now.

Given the fact that they had done everything they could yesterday, John had to slow down to drag this out and make it last. His hips moved with calculated thrusts, pausing for a moment between each one. His hand slid down, away from his husband's, to wrap around Sherlock's cock and start slow, tight strokes. Every thrust ended with a small moan into the back of Sherlock's neck, his teeth occasionally nipping at the skin.

Sherlock arched into John's hand with a moan. Even though the strokes were slow, it didn't take him long to climax. His body relaxed into his husband's with a loud and long moan. "S-sorry..." he stuttered out. He hadn't meant to come so soon, but everything was feeling so wonderful and in less than twenty-four hours they had shagged five times now. His stamina was running low.

John froze for a moment, cleaning his hand off on the sheet. "It is fine," he whispered as his hips started to move faster. "I am almost there," he added as he closed his eyes, focusing on trying to finish. It didn't take too much longer before he was moaning into Sherlock's neck, relaxing and holding his husband close as came down from his high. "Oh, God, that was good." He swallowed hard and giggled. "We need to clean the sheets."


	23. Chapter 23

"There is a laundry room off the kitchen I believe," Sherlock replied absently in between breaths. "Think we might have to take it easy the rest of the day. Pretty sure I don't have the energy for anything else." He smirked despite his admission. "Well, maybe later tonight. Should be okay by then." He rolled over to look at John.

John giggled and pressed the tip of his nose against Sherlock's. "Yeah," he agreed. He wouldn't be able to do much more. Really, he didn't think they were going to do anything this morning but they needed it. "I could make breakfast. Tea, I am hungry so I will make some eggs," he whispered as he lifted an arm to wrap around Sherlock.

"Tea would be lovely. I was going to have some last night but an Army Captain took my cup and drank it for himself." Sherlock smirked at John. "I would offer to do the laundry, but...I've never done it before..." He shrugged a bit and sat up on the bed.

John sat up with him and laughed. "Of course you have never done laundry." He moved off the bed and slipped his boxers on. "That tea was horrid, by the way. No sugar?" He stuck his tongue out and motioned for Sherlock to get off the bed. "Start the kettle, I will get the sheets in the wash. I'll make my breakfast when I am done." He picked up he blanket from the floor and tossed it out of the room.

Sherlock's smirk returned and he shrugged again. "I grew up having servants doing everything for me. And despite Mrs. Hudson's protests she has always washed my clothes." He got up off the bed. He walked out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. It didn't take long to find everything since he had gone through the cupboards and drawers last night.

John returned from the washroom several minutes later, watching Sherlock with a small smile. "I know you hate it but this domestic kitchen stuff kind of suits you," he muttered as he leaned against the counter and placed a kiss on his husband's shoulder. "You make it look like some intricate dance."

Sherlock turned and arched a brow at John. "Since it seems to be _so_ fitting, do you want me cook breakfast for you while I am at?" Despite the smirk on his face, it had been a serious question. Maybe he wouldn't be able to sleep and eat all the time like his husband did, but he supposed he could at least try to do other little things...even if he found them dreadfully boring.

"I might have to take a cold shower after, but yeah." John grinned and stood on his toes, meeting Sherlock's lips. "Probably should put some trousers or something on, though. Bit dangerous to cook all naked." He chuckled and moved to the fridge, grabbing the carton of eggs. "Just scrambled. I know your genius mind can do that."

"I hate wearing clothes," Sherlock admitted. "Finish the tea then. I will be right back." He gave John a quick kiss before leaving the kitchen. He didn't take a shower but he did freshen up a bit before putting clothes on. Even on vacation he wore a buttoned up shirt and nice slacks. He came back into the kitchen fully clothed. "I can make an omelet for you if you want. Cheese, mushrooms, onions, peppers, whatever you want in it. Bit more challenging than scrambled eggs." He smirked as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and buttoning them in place.

"Good Lor- Sherlock, you just had to put on some pajama bottoms, Jesus," John muttered as he finished their tea. Now he felt odd, just standing around in his boxers. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip, smiling a bit. "Can you manage an omelet? Bit difficult to make. It involves actual cooking."

"John, I don't wear pajamas or for that matter own any. Haven't you ever noticed I only sleep naked or in my clothes?" Sherlock walked over to the fridge and began rummaging around for ingredients in the fridge. "What do you want in it? When I was younger I used to hang out in the kitchen. Watched the lead cook, until I got in trouble. Dad said mingling with _the help_ was inappropriate. Mum thought it was...how did she put it...? Oh yes 'darling.'"

"Onions, olives, tomato, ham," John paused and took a deep breath. "And love," he muttered with a grin, reaching out to squeeze Sherlock's arse. "I think today might be a perfect day for a certain consulting detective to learn how to swim," he whispered.

Sherlock got out the ingredients and he stopped a moment to think about what he had learned all those years ago. He broke open three eggs into a bowl and added just a little milk. He whisked them together and then spread out the mixture in a flat pan. "Gotta let it cook a bit then add everything else." He took out a large knife, cut the onion in half and began dicing them. He did the same to the tomato. He diced the olives next and then the ham. By the time he was finished, the egg was finished cooking on one side. He added everything else into the pan and folded the egg over it. After it cooked a bit longer on that side, he flipped it over. It didn't take long to cook the other side and he put the finished product on a plate. "See? Easy." He smirked as he presented the food to John.

It just wasn't fair how wonderful Sherlock was. Literally, the man was perfect and could do anything. "Thanks," John muttered as he grabbed the plate and mock glared at his husband. He took a large bite and slammed his fork down on the table. Of course it was the most wonderful omelet he had ever tasted. "Learn to cook everything. Do it now," he said around his food, picking up his fork and taking another large bite.

Sherlock watched John eat with a smirk. "I take it, it turned out well then? Learned how to cook from a professional. Oh, and I am just naturally good at...everything." The smirk got bigger, he was obviously amused. "Think how amazing at swimming I will be."

John couldn't help but smirk at that. "Swimming is a bit more difficult than making an omelet, Sherlock." He sat back as he finished his breakfast. "Give me awhile, shouldn't go out on a full stomach." He motioned his head toward the plate. "Anything else you can cook? I am already thinking about dinner."

Sherlock shrugged. "Bet I do...swimmingly." He smirked a bit. "Oh is that how it is going to be then? I am going to be your personal cook for this month? I don't know what else I can cook. Anything, I imagine. What would you like for dinner?" He moved over to his cup of now cold tea and stuck it in the microwave to warm it up. It wouldn't taste as good reheated, especially microwaved but he would drink it anyway.

John stood up and stopped the microwave. "I will make you a new cup," he said with a small chuckle. He put the kettle back on and shrugged his shoulders. "I will ignore your horrible pun and instead tell you that I wouldn't mind having you for dinner." He gently met Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock frowned when John stopped the microwave but then smiled. It twisted into a smirk. "I thought it was clever." He returned his husband's kiss, enveloping his partner in a hug. He held onto John for awhile, he would never get tired of being close to his husband.

"I guess I could settle for some pasta if you are still tired," John whispered against Sherlock's lips. "You might be a bit tired after swimming, though." His hand drifted across Sherlock's back, his fingers dipping into his husband's waistband. "Go change into your suit," he whispered with a smirk.

Sherlock grumbled but walked to the bedroom. Couldn't he just swim naked? It wasn't like there was anyone out here. He took off his clothes and sifted through his suitcase before he found black shorts. He slid them on and felt ridiculous. He walked back out to John. "I can't believe you talked me into this…"

John smiled and studied Sherlock. "You look wonderful. They fit you really well." He brushed past his husband and changed quickly into his own suit, walking back out into the kitchen. "Here." He handed Sherlock his new cup of tea as he tied the shorts around his hips. "Drink up."

Sherlock scoffed as he looked down at himself. He took the cup of tea and took sip. "You know what I am looking forward to? Putting lotion on each other." He smirked and took another drink of the tea. "You look adorable though." The smirk got bigger as he continued to drink from the cup.

John glanced up at his husband with narrowed eyes, clearing his throat as he shifted on his feet. At this point he was glad he had been running and working out the best he could. "Hush up, you. I am not putting lotion on but I will put some on you. You'll probably need it." He ran a finger lightly down the center of Sherlock's stomach. "You look quite dashing."

Sherlock finished his tea and put the cup in the sink. "I probably should, I am pretty pale. Wouldn't want to ruin my extraordinary body, now would we?" He smirked once more. He stepped up to John, and met his husband's lips. "What are you going to teach me? Just the normal stroke? Because I must say, I am pretty sure I am good at stroking already." The smirk got bigger, his hand trailing down to glide over his partner's cock through the suit.

John gasped and leaned forward against Sherlock. He was still sensitive from earlier and yesterday. "Stop," he whimpered, grabbing his husband's hand and sucking in a deep breath. It was a major turn on to have his husband be so forward sexually and he _knew_ he couldn't do anything until later. "Get outside, you git," he said with a smile, meeting Sherlock's lips as he walked out toward the beach. Sod Sherlock's lotion, he could do that in a few moments. He ran on the sand with a large smile and when he hit the water he fell with a large splash. After a few moments he resurfaced, shaking his head and looking back toward Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked and watched John leave for a moment before trailing after his husband. "If I get a sunburn, it is your fault." He followed his partner into the sea but not quite with the same exuberance. The water lapped at his feet and he walked out until it came up to his chin. It was warmer than he thought it would be. "Okay my dear doctor, what should I do first? I am leaving myself in your very capable hands."

John swam out after his husband, glancing around. "You should go where I can actually touch, for starters," he muttered, his head dipping underwater for a moment as a wave went over them. He resurfaced with a small laugh. "Besides, I was going to put lotion on you after I got back out. You are just so _excited_ about swimming, aren't you?" He moved closer to shore, dipping underwater to tug at Sherlock's foot.

Sherlock was about to move when his foot lost traction from being tugged on. He wasn't expecting that and he ended up tumbling back further into the sea. Now he couldn't touch. The sink or swim approach wasn't how he had planned on learning how to swim. Don't panic. Panicking would result in sinking and drowning and he would rather not drown on his honeymoon. Okay. Just kick the legs. Move the arms.

John resurfaced quickly. "Shit, sorry." He wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock's torso and kicked, tugging them until the water would be at Sherlock's bellybutton. "Shit, I am sorry, are you alright?" He kept his husband in his arms, panting and looking down at his husband's face. That hadn't been what he had planned. Apparently he didn't know his own strength. "I didn't intend on drowning you."

Sherlock didn't struggle against John, that would make things worse and possibly drown them both. He gave a shrug once his feet touched the sea bed once more. "It is fine. Just wasn't expecting you to do that." He reached over and grabbed his husband's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I am just...excited, I guess." John smiled and returned the squeeze to his hand, taking a deep breath. "You were doing kind of good there, though. Managed to keep your head above water." He turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on his husband's temple. "You might actually be good at everything you try, from the looks of it."

"Well, panicking in any situation isn't good. Especially not when one is in water." Sherlock shrugged again, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course I am going to good at it, I'm a genius. I'm good at _everything._ Now let's get some lotion on me. Don't want to sunburn, it would ruin all the fun we are going to be having." He walked back up to the beach.

John followed after him with a small laugh. "Did you grab a towel? I will have to dry you off before I can put any on or it won't work." He jogged slightly to grab Sherlock's hand, giving it a squeeze. "I love you, y'know?" He looked up at his husband. "More than anything in the world."

"No, I didn't think to grab one. Guess I am not as big a genius as I thought." Sherlock smirked a bit and it shifted to a small smile. "I love you too." He leaned down and kissed John on the lips. His arms wrapped around his husband and gave the other the man a hug. He held onto his partner for a little before leading them back up to the house.

If they both went back into the house, if Sherlock kept holding him like that, and if they got _anywhere_ near the bed, John was afraid he would shag his husband without a second thought. "Do you know that every morning when I wake up and get to see you I know that it will be a good day?" He squeezed his husband's hand as they entered the house, grabbing a towel the moment they walked into the house. "I can't stop making cheesy, romantic comedy quotes when I am around you, either."

"Romantic comedy quotes? Like from the telly or the movies?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow. "We should also grab the lotion this time too." He smirked and grabbed the bottle of sun screen. "Want to smear it on me here and now, or do it outside?" He ran a finger along John's stomach suggestively, stopping at his husband's inner thigh.

"Yes, like from the telly." John started to laugh but it ended in a small gasp, dropping his gaze to Sherlock's finger. "D-Don't care," he muttered with a small moan. They couldn't shag right now but, Jesus, Sherlock was being rather suggestive. "If you don't stop doing that I will literally shag you into next week."

Sherlock smirked. "If only, probably wouldn't be a good idea to try right now. I just enjoy teasing you." He grabbed John by the hand again and led them back to the beach. He let go of his husband's hand and offered the other man the bottle, the smirk ever present.

John went to grab the bottle but stopped when he noticed the smirk on his husband's face. Oh no, that wasn't going to happen. He stood on his toes and met Sherlock's lips, his free hand tangling in the back of Sherlock's hair. He pulled away after several moments and took a deep breath, smiling. "There," he muttered as he opened the lotion, putting some on his hand and moving to spread it across Sherlock's left shoulder.

Sherlock returned the kiss and smirked afterward. He relaxed into John's touch. It reminded him of when his husband had put frosting on him. His body shuddered in response. It shouldn't be such a turn on, but it was anyway.

John studied Sherlock intently, biting his bottom lip as he got more lotion and moved to his husband's left shoulder. "Not even your suit can hide that," he whispered with a small chuckle. He moved his hand down to Sherlock's chest and slowly down his stomach.

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "What can I say, you are just so _adorable_ I can't help but respond to your touch." They really shouldn't start again but God he wanted to. With considerable restraint he kept his hands to himself and instead tapped them on the side of his legs to keep them preoccupied.

John slowly raised his eyes and pressed himself against his husband. "Call me adorable again and I will not shag you for the rest of the day." He smiled and got some more lotion, applying it to Sherlock's back. "Now, c'mon, time to teach you how to swim." He spread the rest of the lotion on Sherlock's cheeks and nose.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow of his own at John's words but smirked anyway. He followed after his husband out into the water. "Okay, my dear doctor I am leaving myself in your capable hands." The smirk broadened. "Which I don't mind doing at all."

"Good." John took a deep breath and glanced around. He was a bit nervous about teaching his husband how to swim. "Right. Let's try this." He moved a bit deeper so the water was at his hips. "Lay on your stomach right here, right next to me." He grinned. "I will keep and arm under you to keep you in place. What you are going to do is do a paddle motion with your arms," he mimicked it with a grin. "And then...just kick your feet."

Sherlock did as he was told, laying on his stomach. His feet kicked behind him and paddled in front of himself as well. "How am I doing?" He was feeling pretty confident about it. Swimming didn't appear to be all that difficult and as long as he didn't panic or flail, he figured he would do all right.

Oh God. His husband looked like a drowning fish. Could fish even drown? John turned away and giggled slightly, trying to hold it back and only succeeding in snorting rather loudly. Turns out those long limbs of Sherlock's weren't good for everything. "I, uh..." He pushed gently at Sherlock's stomach to get him to stand up. "Not all at once. It isn't...you look like you are drowning," he admitted with another laugh. "Like this." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and made him grab the back of his suit, moving to his stomach and started to swim. "See?"

Sherlock snorted at John laughing at him. He came to stand, so he wouldn't have to hold onto his husband. He watched his partner, determined to get it right this time. John wasn't going to laugh at him again damn it. Study it and mimic it. He was going to get it right.

"Right, so, try again." John moved to his feet slowly and smiled warmly. "You will get it. You are _Sherlock Holmes_ , you're a genius." He gently met his husband's lips. "And the closer you get, the more I'll kiss you." Perhaps adding an incentive would help.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "Fine, but if I get it right on this try we get to make out on the beach. Not sure how much longer I can resist your allure." All right. He could do this. He got on his stomach, kicked first and then tried paddling.

John watched his husband for a long moment, smiling. "Better," he said as he turned his head away slightly to stop the water from getting in his eyes. "Good. Very good." He bent and placed a small kiss on Sherlock's back. "But do you think you deserve a snogging break?"

Sherlock smirked triumphantly and stood back up. "You sure you will be able to stop there?" He moved up to John, wrapping his arms around his husband. He tilted his head down and met his partner's lips. Maybe if the kiss was slow and easy, then things wouldn't go too far. Was that what he really wanted though? He was still sore and sensitive but he didn't want to let John go.

Of course he wouldn't be able to stop. John would try for Sherlock's sake because his husband couldn't be feeling very lovely right now. He returned the kiss with the same slow speed, picking his legs up under water and wrapping them around Sherlock's hips as his arms moved tightly around his neck. "Stop being such a good kisser," he said with a smile against his husband's lips.

"Good teacher," Sherlock murmured into John's mouth. He held his husband easily, his lower torso pressing into his partner's. His fingers trailed along the other man's back lightly, and he deepened the kiss. He trailed one hand up to John's head, scratching and playing with it. He moved them out of the water, and then laid them down on the beach close to the tide. He straddled his husband, and continued to kiss with more aggression.

John gasped slightly into Sherlock's mouth as he felt the water washing up against him. This was more than snogging. Of course it was, they could never stop. As the kiss got more aggressive John matched him, hands scratching down his husband's back. "Good reward," he whispered as his tongue darted in between Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock smirked behind the kiss and finally broke it to breathe. The scratches on his back felt wonderful and only encouraged him more. He began sucking on John's neck with an excited growl. His fingers continued to tangle as best they could in his husband's short hair, the other sinking into the sand for some support.

Good. Very good. John arched up into his husband with a soft moan. "Don't stop," he demanded with a gasp. They couldn't stop now, not after this. He didn't care if they got off in their suits but he _needed_ Sherlock.

Sherlock moved his biting kisses up to John's ear. He writhed into the man below, causing some friction that made him moan. It wasn't the same kind of roughness as last time, because the fabric was softer and wet. Didn't matter, still felt good. He let his finger trail out of his husband's hair, down the shoulder and the arm with light scratches.

"Yes." John arched up into Sherlock again, a hand yanking are his husband's hair to turn his head. "We aren't done swimming," he muttered against his lips, his tongue darting out for a moment. "But I want you so bad." He wiggled slightly in the sand and managed to free one of his legs, wrapping it around Sherlock and lifting his hips. He moaned and lowered his head to suck on his husband's neck.

Sherlock smirked at John through the kiss. A growl escaped his lips as soon as he felt his husband's mouth on his neck. His hand in the sand attempted to cling tighter but really only succeeded in his hand sinking into it further. He squirmed into his partner with a moan, his head dropping a bit more so John could have better access.

They weren't waiting until tonight. They couldn't. It was their honeymoon. John moaned softly against Sherlock's mouth as his teeth nipped at the skin. God, he was hard and with Sherlock squirming on top of him his only thought was how wonderful his husband was. "Roll over," John demanded softly, pushing at Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock complied. Were they really going to do this? "Don't have anything," he murmured. He wrapped his arms around John anyway, pulling his husband closer to him. He bucked into the man above him with more earnest than he had been. His fingers began scratching up and down his partner's back, leaving faint red lines.

"I know," John muttered as he wrapped Sherlock's legs around his hips, moving to meet his husband's thrusts with a small whimper. "Don't stop." His hips started a slow rhythm, down with a roll before he lifted again. The scratches made him moan, one hand moving to scratch at Sherlock's side. "Please don't stop."

Sherlock had poor self control when it came to things like these, so he wasn't sure he would be able stop even if he wanted to right now. With a growl of excitement he matched John's pace, his fingers digging deeper into the skin in his haze of arousal. He lifted his head a bit so he could kiss his partner with aggression, not caring it was a bit sloppy.

John returned the kiss eagerly, his hand gripping Sherlock's side tightly. They were going to be a bit beat up after this. He could feel the scratches already, Sherlock's lips were red. Fuck, he had done that. "Love you, oh God." His hips pressed harder against the body beneath him. His hand moved off of Sherlock, both moving to dig into the sand on either side of his husband's head. He met Sherlock's gaze as he struggled to take a deep breath.

Sherlock moaned loudly into John's mouth, as he rocked into the body above him roughly. "Love you too," he breathed out. He moved his hands to his husband's sides and continued to scratching harshly, leaving more red streaks on his partner's body. He began nibbling on John's lower lip, moaning once more.

John whimpered against Sherlock's lips. Rough. He liked rough. He never had until he had started with Sherlock. His hips moved in time with his husband's, rough and fast. Even in a wet swim suit Sherlock was able to pull him to the edge faster than he would have liked. This needed to last. His hips slowed slightly. "Slow d-down a bit."

Slow down? That wasn't what Sherlock had in mind but with restraint began to match John's pace. Lately they didn't do rough and fast often and now that they were, he wanted to continue it. He whimpered, fingers digging in deeper into his husband's skin. He moved in for another kiss, biting his partner's bottom lip before moving in for another aggressive kiss.

"Sorry." John dropped his head to meet the aggressive kiss. "Want to last longer." Which was impossible because they couldn't stop shagging. He tasted blood in his mouth from Sherlock's bite and that did it for him. His hips were moving roughly again, his hip bone smacking into Sherlock's. He couldn't stop now. Rough. It had to be rough.

Sherlock growled and moaned at the same time, this was very exhilarating. He matched the rough pace, and continued the kiss. The taste of blood in his mouth should have been enough to slow him down but it only encouraged him. He continued the scratching, fingers moving to John's chest and stomach.

That was it for John. Scratches on his chest and stomach made him shout as he came, pressing Sherlock roughly into the sand. "Oh, God." He turned and spit blood into the sand with a soft moan, panting as he struggled to hold himself above his husband. "I need to teach you how to swim more often."

Sherlock came right after John with a loud moan. His body went limp afterward, hands dropping to his side. He took a moment to breath before speaking. "S-sorry. Got a bit carried away. You okay?" He brought a hand up to move through John's hair.

John nodded instantly. "Yeah. Yeah." He swallowed and grimaced. More blood. "I am fine." He smiled sheepishly at his husband. Sherlock looked beautiful like this, panting and laying in the sand. A large wave crashed into the shore, soaking them both. "We haven't been that rough in a while. Missed it. You okay?"

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "That was magnificent, thank you." He brought both hands to rest on either side of John's face and gave his husband a kiss on his nose. His arms dropped back to his side into the sand, as he continued to try and normalize his breathing. "Probably should wait and continue the swimming lessons later." He gave John a smirk.

John nodded and pulled himself out of Sherlock's legs, taking a deep breath as he collapsed on the sand next to his husband. He was too tired to do anything else now. "We have literally done it all," he muttered with a laugh. "In a secret room, in the deserts of Afghanistan, in our bloody swimming suits at a private beach in Italy." He grabbed his husband's hand with a weak smile. "I love you."

Sherlock smirked and squeezed John's hand. "I love you too." He laid on the beach, the water lapping up around his lower torso. He snuggled into his husband's shoulder, just enjoying the closeness of his partner. "What do you want for the rest of the day?"

"Look at you," John replied with a soft smile. His free arm wrapped around Sherlock's torso protectively. "I wouldn't mind a nap. That is if you wouldn't mind me snuggling with you." He squeezed his husband's hand. "Helps me sleep better. And until then I think it might be good for you to get a bit of a tan."

"Tan? _Me_?" Sherlock shook his head at the thought, despite the smirk on his lips. "Sleep then my dear doctor. I will be here when you wake up." He wasn't sure if he would sleep as well, but he would stay next to John regardless. He snuggled closer to his husband, turning a bit sideways so an arm could sling over John's stomach.

"Would do you a bit of good to get some color." John grinned eagerly and closed his eyes, letting his head drop and relax in the sand. "Please don't leave," he whispered desperately. Sleeping alone had suddenly become too scary.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "I promise I will be right here. No nightmares. I am here next to you my dear doctor." He turned his head and gave his husband's cheek a quick kiss. He relaxed and stilled against the man next to him so his partner could get some sleep. At his current angle he could see the length of the beach for as far as the eye could see.

Comfort. Sherlock wasn't leaving. No nightmares. John relaxed slowly and the arm around his husband slipped and landed on be the sand. The sound of the waves and the constant movement of Sherlock breathing against him finally knocked him out, a soft snore escaping his lips.


	24. Chapter 24

Sherlock smiled. Good. John had fallen asleep. The honeymoon was turning out better than he could have ever imagined. His husband was right, this was better than Scotland and the trip had only just begun. Surely things could only get better. Eventually enough time went by that the tide began to ebb, and now the water only came to crash around his feet and ankles.

John woke up slowly, stretching in the sand and tensing slightly when he realized Sherlock was next to him. "Hi," he muttered. He glanced down at his chest. A little burned but no harm done. "Sorry, didn't mean to sleep so long."

"It is fine. You needed it. I keep wearing you out it seems." Sherlock smirked and turned his head to look at John. "Ready to go back to the house or do you want to just continue laying here on the beach? I'm not sure I am as tan a you would like." The smirk got bigger and he leaned over to give his husband a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Mmm." John returned the kiss with a smile. "You always look fine. I wouldn't mind some dinner." He stretched again and glanced up at the sky. "Are you hungry? I could cook if you are." He had to keep reminding himself to not force Sherlock to do anything that he didn't want to do. Eating, sleeping, anything.

"No, but we can get something to eat if you want. I can cook for you again, while you laugh at me for being domestic." Sherlock's smirk returned. He sat up, tugging John up gently with him. "You said something about pasta earlier, yes?"

John stood, stumbling slightly and falling against his husband. "Yeah." He nodded and looked up at Sherlock. "There is shrimp in the freezer, Alfredo sauce in a cabinet." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips and tugged him toward the house. "Want me to make some tea?"

Sherlock supported John and held onto the other man for a moment. "You okay?" He kissed the top of his husband's head. "Shrimp Alfredo, I think I can manage that. Garlic bread? Maybe a salad?" He followed his partner back to the house.

"Must be a little dehydrated." John muttered with a small laugh. "I will have to drink some water when we get inside." He squeezed his husband's hand as they entered the small beach house, letting out a small sigh at how cool it was. It felt good on his slightly heated skin.

"Sit down my dear doctor and take it easy." Sherlock led John to a chair at the table and then let go of his husband's hand. He walked to the fridge, opened it, grabbed a bottle of water and then walked back to his partner. "Here, nice and cold." He smiled and placed the bottle on the table.

How in the world had he domesticated Sherlock Holmes? John took the bottle of water slowly, keeping his eyes locked on his husband. "Thanks," he muttered, twisting the cap off and taking a small sip. "What did you do before I moved in?" He asked softly.

Sherlock paused for a moment before replying and shrugged. "I had a servant, but that didn't last long. I slept and ate even less than I do now. Drugs kept me going for a long time, until it almost killed me." Another shrug. "Lestrade helped me get clean...so did Mrs. Hudson... I did solve a lot of cases in those five years." He turned away from John and walked into the kitchen.

John watched his husband for a moment, swallowing hard and slowly standing up. He knew about the drugs. Everybody knew. Sherlock's little escapes really weren't a secret. "Hey, I'm sorry." He approached his husband from behind and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. "I am just...curious. You know a bit about me before we met. I just...y'know, where? Who got you into it?" He placed a soft kiss between Sherlock's shoulder blades, grimacing slightly at the taste of the lotion.

Sherlock tensed briefly but then relaxed into John a bit, but he didn't turn around when he spoke again. "First drug I ever tried was cocaine. I was just barely fifteen. One of the servant's at the manor, the pool boy, got me some. His name was Theodore but everyone just called him Teddy. Anyway, Mum found out eventually and he was fired immediately. It was too late by then. Almost a year had gone by before anyone noticed. I was in and out of rehab until I was eighteen. Dad kicked me out then. You want to know why I work so well with the homeless, how I got that network set up? It is because I was homeless, for a little while anyway. That was where I discovered heroine, and I found I quite liked it much better than cocaine. The effects are much quicker, since it is injected into your veins. Mummy worried about me living on the street so she opened up a trust fund for me, dumped a bunch of cash in it and put it in my name. Dad was furious when he found out." A faint smile crossed his lips at the memory. "On one of my sober days, I offered my assistance to the Yard. Lestrade was working the case of course, and I solved it in a day after the police had been stumped for a month. That is how it started, how I became a consulting detective. Only, there wasn't always a case to keep me occupied or focused and I would slip into old habits." The words were spoken quickly, almost rushed, like he just wanted to get the story out and over with.

John tensed slightly, listening and closing his eyes. The drugs had been known but...all of that? It sounded surreal, like it wasn't Sherlock's life. "I love you," he finally muttered, sucking in a shallow breath. Was he crying? He pulled away from his husband's back, with a small roll of his eyes. What the Hell had happened to him after Afghanistan? In that moment he felt fiercely protective of his husband. He wanted to take away every bad moment in his life and replace it with a good one. He wanted to find that bastard pool boy and beat him for ruining Sherlock's life. "I am sorry, I didn't...I shouldn't have asked."

Sherlock shrugged it off. "It happened. I can't do anything to change it, so no point in worrying about it. I am clean now." Distraction. Food. Cooking. Yes he was going to cook John dinner. Luckily his husband hadn't asked _why_ _ **.**_ He wasn't sure he could handle recounting that story, or if he ever would be ready to tell it. Just ignore it. Lock it away. It was the reason he had let go of emotions. It was better to feel nothing than what he had growing up. John made him feel again and he was certain remembering would destroy him and he would run back to the drugs again. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He had told himself he was going to start cooking but he hadn't moved one step from his spot.

John moved in front of Sherlock slowly, lifting up his left arm and studying it. Little scars. Little reminders that his husband had to live with every day. "You are beautiful," he whispered as he lowered his mouth to the scars, kissing them gently. "And I don't care what happened in your past because it led you straight to me, didn't it?" A ghost of a smile took over his lips as he glanced up at his husband. His lips moved again, paying attention to any little scar he could find. "You are perfect." His free hand moved to run gently down Sherlock's bare stomach.

Sherlock was startled for a moment before he realized it was John in front of him. He forced a smile and nodded. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around his husband in a tight hug and it took him a moment to find control and to loosen his grip on John. He needed the closeness and the comfort that he could only find in his partner's arms.

Despite the fact that John couldn't breathe for a moment, he returned the hug without a second thought. "I will never bring it up again," he said against his husband's chest. If it meant putting Sherlock through everything he had just heard then he could live with knowing about his partner in the here and now, not about what put him in John's arms. "And I will fight to make your life the most perfect one in the world. You deserve at least that."

For a long moment he clung to John in silence. Sherlock cleared his throat after releasing his husband. "Right then. I was going to cook you dinner." He gave his partner a faint, reassuring smile before turning his attention to the fridge and then the pantry.

"Not hungry," John replied instantly. He was going to comfort his husband. Period. There wasn't a choice. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him toward the living room, down the few steps that separated it from the kitchen. "Lay with me," he whispered, falling on to the couch on his back. His legs spread and he motioned for Sherlock to lay on him. "I want to be close to you."

Sherlock frowned a bit but followed John anyway. He curled into his husband almost immediately. He would never turn down a chance to be close to his husband. He pressed his head into John's shoulder, his knees bending and legs pulled up against him. One hand found his husband's hair to run through and the other hung off the couch.

"I read somewhere online that just laying with somebody you love helps relieve stress," John whispered, his fingers running gently up and down his husband's lower back. "Helps make people relax, which you need," he added softly. Sherlock would never admit it, and John would never force him, but the man needed to take a break sometimes, just relax and let somebody _love_ him. "We can talk about your glorious hair. How _adorable_ you are when you sleep."

Sherlock remained silent. He really didn't feel like talking anymore. He was stressed, every muscle in his body told him that. Maybe just laying with John would help. After awhile he tilted his head up so he could look at his husband. "A massage?" It had worked wonders on him last time. Perhaps it could help now.

John looked down at his husband and smiled softly. "Yeah, of course." He glanced around the living room for a moment. The floor was carpeted and it had felt rather soft on his feet. "Floor? More room down there." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock wasn't used to asking others for things. Well, he was but never things he _actually_ wanted or needed. When John agreed he returned the other man's smile. He got off the couch, grabbed a pillow and laid down on the floor. He partially buried his face into the pillow, as he tried to relax his body as much as he could.

"Good." John settled for straddling Sherlock's upper thighs, reaching up and starting at his husband's neck. "Just take deep breaths," he instructed as his fingers worked at the knots he found at the base of Sherlock's neck. He moved his fingers gently in the same motion before moving down on the inside of his husband's shoulder blades. It should have been arousing, the last ones certainly were, but he was so focused on making Sherlock relax that his only feeling was love.

Sherlock groaned into the pillow. In some areas it hurt for awhile until his muscles finally loosened up. He concentrated on breathing, making sure to inhale and exhale deeply. "Feels good," he said as he let his eyes close. He hadn't fallen asleep, but he was certain he was well on his way there.

"I know," John stated with a cocky grin, despite the fact that his husband couldn't see it. "You are doing good, almost done." He worked his thumbs under Sherlock's shoulder blades. After that he was quiet, smiling a bit. The man's body was almost limp and it looked like Sherlock was on his way to take a little bit of a nap. Good, he needed it. One night of sleep, which was really five hours for Sherlock, wasn't enough to fix the damage he had done to his body in the past month.

Sherlock groaned some more. His body continued to relax from John's touch. He felt himself drifting off to sleep. "Tired," he muttered into the pillow. "Love you, thank you." Sleep found him after that, his entire body going limp.

John smiled. Sherlock Holmes sleeping. The eighth wonder of the world. He moved slowly off of his husband, grabbing a blanket from the small basket beside the couch, and tossed it over the sleeping form. After a few moments of watching his sleeping partner he moved to the kitchen, grabbing everything he needed to start preparing a small dinner.

Sherlock slept much longer than he had intended. He groaned as he woke up. He looked out the window, it was dark now. "Only wanted to take a quick nap," he muttered to himself. He sat up from the floor to look around the house bleary eyed. He stood up, stretching his long limbs out. "John?" He called out, so as to locate his husband.

"Kitchen," John replied. Shit, now he was nervous. He had only made Sherlock half a plate, just to play it safe. He didn't want to force food on his husband. The wine had been simple enough to find, the two cups set on the table. The candles, on the other hand, had taken quite a bit of time to discover but once he found them he smiled. It was perfect. A small, romantic dinner. Wine. Candles. "I...I mean, if you're not hungry you don't have to eat but..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just, you know, in case." He dropped his head to hide his blush.

Sherlock looked at the set up, a small smile spreading on his lips. "What is all of this my dear doctor?" He sat down in the chair where the plate of food was placed. He was a little hungry; he really hadn't eaten in the past month. Less than usual, mainly due to sheer stubbornness. It was a little reminiscent of when they had first had dinner at Angelo's almost two years ago.

John looked up slowly, managing a small smile himself. "A romantic dinner," he replied softly. When Sherlock had fallen asleep he had decided to show the man how loved he was, how important he was. Romantic dinner. That was what everybody in the movies did, right? "I found some really good wine...and candles." He sat down in his chair and nodded a bit. "Do you like it, then?"

Romantic dinner? He wasn't sure he would get the concept of 'romantic' but Sherlock did understand that John was trying to do something nice. He smiled. "It is nice, thank you." He picked up a fork and knife. He cut up some of the food on the plate and ate a forkful. "Not half bad my dear doctor." He gave his husband a smirk and continued eating.

John laughed. "Shrimp Alfredo isn't too difficult," he replied as took a bite. It could have been a bit better but it would do. He reached forward and took a drink from his wine. "You looked wonderful asleep on the floor," he stated with a grin as he set his glass down. "All spread eagle, snoring into your pillow." He took another bite of food. "Had trouble focusing on the food."

"I am sure. My amazing and _perfect_ good looks are very distracting." Sherlock smirked once more and took another bite. He looked at his cup of wine for a moment. He hadn't had alcohol since getting drunk at Lestrade's. He already had a drug problem and didn't want to add alcohol to the list. Though he supposed as he long as he didn't overdo it should be fine. He reached over and grabbed the glass and took a drink.

John watched Sherlock intently as he drank from the glass. It was difficult to think back to the beginning of their relationship, back to Moriarty and when his husband had purposely gotten drunk. He hoped that one little glass of wine would be alright. "Your Mum went all out," he said as he took a large bite of food. "Expensive wine." He blushed. "I even looked around the room. She is...spoiling us, that's for sure."

"Did you check out the sheets on the bed? Egyptian cotton. 3,000 thread count if I am not mistaken." Sherlock took another bite of food. "At least, that is the kind she keeps around the manor." He smirked and shrugged a bit. "Wouldn't be surprised if the wine came from our cellar, Dad was a connoisseur and enjoyed fine wine."

"I did, made the bed while you were asleep. Looked around." John took a bite of food as the blush spread to the tips of his ear. Still awkward. "We, um, we certainly won't be running out of lube." He quickly shoved more food in his mouth after the statement. Still embarrassing.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, luckily his mouth wasn't full at the time. "You shouldn't be so surprised my dear doctor." He took another bite of his food, a big smirk on his face. He finished up the pasta on his plate. He picked up the glass of wine and rolled it around in his fingers for a little bit before taking another drink.

John finished his own meal quickly. "Just a bit...different," he muttered. "That your Mum knows. Honestly, some of them are _flavored_ , Sherlock." He grabbed his glass of wine and downed the rest of it in two large gulps. "You don't mind the wine, then? I was a bit hesitant but it fit." He shrugged and stood up, pouring himself a second glass.

Sherlock smirked even bigger. "Flavored? Oh, why that sounds like it could be fun. We will have to try some of those out." He watched John finish the glass of wine with an arched brow. "It is fine. Like it better than scotch. One glass will be enough for me." He continued to sip on his wine.

Try it? John coughed and sputtered, looking at his husband with wide eyes. "W-What?" He glanced at his cup for a moment and nodded, taking several large gulps from the glass. He didn't think he was ready for this type of conversation. Change the topic. "Right. Better than scotch." He nodded and finished his second glass. Maybe wine hadn't been such a wonderful idea when he knew he was going to be nervous.

Sherlock watched John with an amused look. He was quiet for a thoughtful moment as he sipped the rest of his wine. He placed his glass on the table, got up and walked over to his husband. "You okay?" He wrapped his arms around his partner in a small but comforting hug. He kissed the top of John's head, still holding the other man close.

John closed his eyes and leaned into his husband, burying his face against Sherlock's chest. "Nervous," he whispered softly. The world was already spinning slightly. He was definitely tipsy. "Wanted to impress you and...I have plans." His arms moved slowly to wrap around his husband's lower back. "Want to make you happy."

"Nervous? About what?" Sherlock kissed the top of John's head again, as he pulled his husband into a tighter hug. "Do I get to know these plans or is this another one of your surprises?" He pulled away from his partner so he could look down at John. He inspected his husband with a critical eye, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

John took a deep breath and looked up at his husband. "C'mere." He reached around his body to grab Sherlock's hand, pulling him into their room and then into the bathroom. After a hesitant pause he opened the door. The only light in the room was from candles spread out across the massive bathroom. The Jacuzzi tub was filled with water, bubbles resting on the top. "I- Just nervous," he said as he glanced back at Sherlock and squeezed his hand. "Wanted you to like it."

Sherlock followed after John curiously. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the bathroom. Was this one of those romantic things his husband kept talking about it? "It's…nice…" Why was John trying so hard to impress him? It was all very flattering but not really his style. Just another area where he had failed his husband. Apparently romance was just another concept beyond his grasp.

"You don't like it," John muttered as his shoulders dropped. It was something new for them, really. Sherlock's grasp on romantic was just as shaky as his own. Wonderful. "Right. Sorry." He let go of Sherlock's hand with a small shrug. "Thought it was worth a try, you know?" He said evenly, trying to keep emotion from his voice. He stood in the doorway and examined the bathroom. "We can do something else." He turned to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned a bit. He had ruined whatever John had planned, hadn't he? "It is nice, I'm just not sure I know what exactly you had in mind…" He gave a faint smirk. "Imagine that, me not being able to figure something out." He drew his husband into a hug once more, tilting his head down to meet John's lips.

John didn't think twice about returning the kiss, his arms moving to wrap around his husband. "A romantic bath," he whispered. They were still in their suits from earlier, it would be smart to wash everything off. "You know, me washing you with fancy smelling oils, all that stuff your Mum left us for a reason." He met Sherlock's lips again as he started to back up, reaching between them to start undoing his husband's swimming suit.

Sherlock gave a smile and nodded. "Okay." He was still sensitive and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips from John simply removing his swim suit. Everything was heightened and it all felt more intense than usual. He deepened the kiss and pulled his husband closer to him still, desiring more intimate contact.

John exhaled loudly from his nose, pressing against Sherlock eagerly. "Don't have to do anything," he told his husband softly. This wasn't about making love, it hadn't been when he had put all of it together. It was about showing Sherlock how loved he was and how much he meant to John. He pulled his own suit off and pulled away from Sherlock's lips with a smile. He climbed into the bath and situated himself to sit against the back. "Here, right here." He spread his legs slightly so his husband could sit between them.

Sherlock got in the Jacuzzi and straddled John's lap. He pressed his lips against his husband's again, his tongue wasting no time at all to enter the other mouth. The hot, bubbling water felt good on in his skin but being close to John felt even better. "Love you," he murmured behind the kiss as it got a bit more aggressive.

While it wasn't what John had in mind, he certainly couldn't complain about how this was turning out so far. He wanted to reply but returned his husband's kiss instead, moving his hands rested at Sherlock's lower back. He arched his neck slightly, stretching his torso, to press against Sherlock's mouth to match the man's aggression. He let out a soft moan and nipped at his partner's lower lip.

Sherlock moaned, writhing into John now. He hadn't intended for this to happen, but as soon his husband had started undoing his swim suit it had kick started everything. Now he couldn't keep his hands off of John, not that he wanted to stop this anyway. He moved his lips to his husband's neck to begin sucking on it excitedly. He pressed into to John again, a moan escaping him. He brought a hand up to run through John's hair.

There was no mistaking that at all. _That_ was Sherlock's erection pressing incessantly against John's stomach. "Oh, God." His fingers curled and dug into his husband's lower back at the feeling of Sherlock's mouth on his neck. This was not exactly relaxing but Sherlock wanted it. Who was he to turn his wonderful husband down? Everything the man was doing was perfect. The hand in his hair, his mouth... He couldn't stop now. Except, to be honest, this was all about Sherlock anyway. He let himself relax marginally, taking a deep breath.

Sherlock moaned again. It was amazing to him that he could still get hard with as many times as they had shagged recently. He moved his lips up the neck to John's ear where he began nibbling on it. His free hand moved down to caress his husband's penis, squeezing gently. He continued to press into John, another moan escaping him.

The hand on John's cock made him jump slightly, pressing up into his husband's hand. He felt Sherlock move against him and moaned, scratching gently at his husband's lower back. "Want me to touch you?" John asked softly, swallowing hard and moving a hand around to rest on Sherlock's lower stomach.

Sherlock growled in response to the scratching. "Oh God yes," he whispered into John's ear. He started a firm but steady rhythm on his husband's penis. His body continued to press and buck into his partner eagerly. He moved his lips back to John's, kissing with aggression once more. His other hand began scratching through his husband's hair with a little more pressure.

John complied and grabbed his husband's penis, matching the rhythm that Sherlock was doing. He hissed against Sherlock's mouth, returning the kiss and biting Sherlock's bottom lip. On the beach, Sherlock had drawn blood. For some reason John wanted to do the same. He arched into his husband with a loud moan, tearing away from the kiss when he heard some water splash over the side and hit the floor.

Sherlock moaned and leaned into John's touch. When his husband broke the kiss he began biting and sucking on the other side of his partner's neck. The pace became faster in his excitement, another growl escaping him. He pressed and squirmed into John's lower torso roughly.

"Shit." John tilted his head slightly to bite down on his husband's shoulder. It was good. He was sensitive and just Sherlock's hand was perfect. "Don't stop," he moaned with an excited buck of his hips. This was more than he had planned but now he wondered how he thought he would be able to keep his hands off Sherlock. "Love you."

The bite made Sherlock moan loudly into John's neck and he had to stop sucking to intake deep breaths of air. Another moan as he came, and the hand in the hair had to grip the side of the Jacuzzi so he wouldn't collapse completely in the water. His forehead rested on his husband's shoulder as he continued his deep breathing. His other hand managed to keep a moderate pace on John's cock, though it had slowed down a bit after he had climaxed.

John gasped and came immediately after Sherlock, slipping slightly deeper into the tub. "Fu-" He took a deep breath and whimpered and rested his head on Sherlock's. "God." His chest was heaving but he smiled, his arms wrapping around his husband's lower torso. "Love you."

Once he was able to breathe a little normally he spoke. "Love you too. 'sgood." Sherlock remained mostly still, except for his still heaving chest. His hand on his husband's penis fell to his side. He gave John's shoulder a small kiss. "Sorry if I ruined your plans," he murmured, eyes closing as he still concentrated on breathing properly.

"Made the plans better," John said with a smirk, turning to kiss his husband's ear. He took more deep breaths and grinned. "Good. Loved it." He jumped a little as a small noise started under them. The water was heated again. "Of course," he giggled and glanced at his husband. "It heats the water up."

Sherlock lifted his head and smirked at John. "Good. I'm glad." He wondered if they would be able to keep going like this. If maybe after a month of nothing they were just desperate for the constant contact. Perhaps tomorrow they should take it easy. Do silly domestic things that he usually found boring. Maybe John had plans? "What do you want to do tomorrow my dear doctor?"

"Sleep," John replied slowly, yawning a bit. "We could go walk around the village that is up here, try wine." He shrugged and glanced at his husband. "Eat a little. Or...I'll eat a little." He chuckled and pulled Sherlock a little closer. "What about you? Any ideas?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me." Sherlock smiled and kissed John's forehead. "We should probably try to behave, before one of has a heart attack." The smile twisted into a smirk. "Come on. If you are tired we can go to bed." He stood up, his body getting goose bumps from the air being cooler than the water in the Jacuzzi.

John watched his husband with a smile. The man was trying. _Really_ trying. Sure, he had ruined the romantic bath but he'd done so with...want? Need? He liked the feeling, really, of Sherlock not being able to keep his hands away. It made him feel loved because how else was Sherlock going to show it? He stood slowly, grabbing a towel and instantly wrapping it around his husband. "You don't have to sleep," he reminded Sherlock softly.

Sherlock climbed out of the Jacuzzi and took the towel with a smile. "I already slept, so I probably won't sleep again for awhile," he admitted with a slight shrug. He dried himself off and then let the towel fall to the floor. He stepped back into the bedroom and sought out the warmth of the covers. When John was in next to him, he snuggled in next to his husband immediately.


	25. Chapter 25

"You make me laugh," John whispered, turning his head to place a soft kiss on the crown of Sherlock's head. "You insist, day in and day out, that you are the _dominant_ one in the relationship but the moment we are in bed." He wrapped his arms around his husband. "You curl into my like a little kid afraid of a thunderstorm." He shifted and tangled their legs together, his eyes slipping closed. "I am...sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to bring all that up," he whispered.

"Fine. I won't anymore," Sherlock muttered like the child he had just been accused of being. He stayed curled into John despite his previous statement. He tensed at his husband's last comment for a moment before forcing himself to relax. He had thought John wasn't going to bring it up again. "It is fine. You didn't know."

"I like it," John stated with a warm smile. In the beginning of their relationship John had always curled into Sherlock's side but now, he was feeling so protective of the man that he needed to have Sherlock against him like this to feel good. To sleep comfortably. He felt Sherlock tense and decided to move on. He wasn't going to sleep for a while; he was going to spend time with his husband. "I was thinking today." His hand moved gently up and down Sherlock's spine. "About how much I owe you because...you have literally saved my life more times than I can count."

Sherlock lifted his head to look up at John. "And you have done the same for me, my dear doctor." He gave his husband a smile and gave the other man a kiss on the cheek. He dropped his head back onto the shoulder, curling a little tighter into his partner. "I love you," he said quietly as he brought a hand up to run through John's hair.

John would never get tired of hearing Sherlock say that. The man in his arms claimed to not like emotions, to ignore them, but when he said 'I love you,' John knew it was real. It always was. "I love you, too," he whispered, his words slurring together a bit. "I am the luckiest man in the world," he added with a yawn. It didn't take long for his body to relax to the point where he was fighting sleep. "Scared to sleep," he said lowly, forcing his eyes open.

Sherlock grabbed one of John's hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. "No worries. I am right here. Just think about me before you go to sleep. How much better you sleep when I'm next to you." He gave his husband's shoulder a light kiss. His fingers in John's hair trailed soothingly through the short strands. While he held his husband's hand, his thumb also ran along the knuckles lightly.

Sherlock. Just think about Sherlock. John smiled briefly and finally gave into his nagging mind. His body fell limp almost instantly and his chest moved in even, shallow breaths. His dreams were pleasant, more than pleasant, and he found himself waking up with his last dream making him moan softly. Shit, he had crashed. He must have really needed sleep. "Hi," he said sleepily, ended it with a yawn. The sun wasn't up yet but he figured that much. The time change was still taking some getting used to.

All night Sherlock stayed next to John, in hopes that his husband would be able to sleep soundly. He smiled at the man next to him. "Good morning. Well, it is technically morning despite it being dark out." He sat up slowly, stretching out his stiff, lanky limbs. "Do you want another omelet for breakfast? I could bring it to you, if you want? Husbands do that for each other, don't they? The whole breakfast in bed thing?"

It was a bit too early in the morning for such a drastic change in Sherlock's demeanor and John just stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed together. It was too cold for him when his husband sat up and he curled slightly into himself, yanking at the blanket. "Toast?" He asked after a while, still staring at his husband with wide eyes. "Possibly some orange juice?"

Sherlock turned around to study John in the darkness with a thoughtful frown. "If you don't want it...I was just trying..." He trailed off, falling back into his pillow with a sigh. He turned away from his husband to pout, angry with himself. He had spent all night trying to figure out a way to make up for everything he had ruined yesterday: swimming lessons, not making dinner, John's plan for the Jacuzzi. He hadn't had the time to research how to be a good husband very much, but he had read an article online about breakfast in bed. It had seemed simple enough, but he'd even managed to screw that up already too. He was usually so cocky and confident, but when it came to trying to be a good husband he felt like he was drowning in failure.

John watched Sherlock for a long moment and glanced around the room for a long moment. "Sherlock, it's fine." He moved to press his chest against his husband's back, placing a kiss at the base of his neck. "I would love breakfast in bed. That would be wonderful." He moved an arm around to wrap around Sherlock. "It's just new for me to have all of this." To have him in bed, even. He wouldn't say that, though. It would only make things worse. "Toast and orange juice," he whispered into his husband's back. "And maybe something I can feed to you."

Sherlock relaxed into John's touch, his eyes closing. He didn't want to get out of bed now. Instead he just wanted to stay close to his husband for a little while. Clearly he needed to work on communication still because when he had tried to explain things he ended up pouting instead. Maybe after breakfast. He finally got out of bed and he grabbed his robe to help retain his body heat. He turned to John with a smirk. "You know what happened the last time you fed me, right?"

John turned to his back, stretching with a knowing grin. "I might be willing to accept those consequences," he replied with a wink. "I know we are supposed to _behave_ today but I just love feeding you food." He shifted on the bed and stood up, pressing his bare body against Sherlock as he stood on his toes to give him a slow kiss. "I love you." He pulled away and fell back on to the bed.

"It is our honeymoon, we can do whatever we want. Besides, I never was very good at _behaving_ anyway." Sherlock smirked at John again. "If you aren't careful my dear doctor, I might forgo breakfast and have something else to eat." He flashed another smirk and then left the bedroom. He looked in the pantry for bread. He found white, wheat, rye, sour dough, potato and raisin bread. He groaned at the selection and grabbed three of them. He put a slice of white and wheat in the toaster and pressed the button down. He grabbed a glass and the orange juice. He poured the juice in the glass when he smelled something burning. He glanced up to see smoke coming from the toaster. Something wet and sticky covered his hand holding the glass. Damn it, the juice. He slammed the carton down in frustration, ignoring the liquid dripping from the counter to the floor. He ran to the toaster and forced the toast up. Naturally, the toaster had been set at the highest level for no real reason he could foresee. "Uh John...it is going to be a minute. I decided to make myself a cup of tea." With a groan, he leaned his head against the side of the microwave. Hopefully his husband wouldn't come to investigate.

John slowly climbed out of bed. It smelled like burning toast, a smell that he knew a bit too well because Harry did it every morning when she had been drunk. He pulled a fresh pair of boxers on and walked hesitantly out of the bedroom. Oh. There was juice everywhere and the burning toast was still smoking a bit. "It is fine." John moved into the kitchen, grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink. "You are fine, c'mere." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and smiled when it was sticky. He moved the rag over his husband's skin, pulling him close and giving him a quick kiss. "Love you." He moved to start cleaning the floor and counter, tossing the rag in the sink when he was done. Right, burnt toast. He moved to the toaster and grabbed the two ruined pieces, moving to toss them in the trash before putting two more slices in and adjusting the time. "There. All fixed." He move to wrap his arms around his husband, placing several soft kiss on the underside of his husband's jaw.

Sherlock groaned again when he saw John enter the kitchen. "Now you see why I don't try and do domestic things," he mumbled but smirked anyway. He tilted his head up so his husband had more places to kiss. He wrapped his arms around John in a hug, his head resting atop of his partner's.

John smirked against his husband's neck. Of course he would just throw his head back and beg silently. "You managed a lovely omelet yesterday," he whispered as his tongue darted out to lap at the tendon in Sherlock's neck. "It is the thought that counts." One hand slid down to squeeze at his husband's ass. "I will have you practice a bit." He nipped at the skin beneath his mouth.

Sherlock gave a slight shrug. "Making an omelet requires a little skill, so I think it is why it turned out okay. I have spent my whole life trying to do amazing and extraordinary things, which I am _very_ good at by the way, that doing normal, simple little things are impossible. Like when I took little Sandi home from the hospital, for the life of me I couldn't get her buckled in right. Mycroft ended up doing it..." He shrugged again, pulling John into a tighter hug.

"It is fine," John muttered, pulling his mouth away from his husband's neck to bury his face into his chest. "I understand that certain things take some getting used to and married life is going to be one of them." He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. "You are learning, though. You can take care of Amy so well, you can care for me. Sherlock, last night you laid in bed while I slept so I wouldn't have a nightmare. I don't think you would have done that a year ago, even when we were still _dating_."

Sherlock lifted his head so he could look down at John. "I guess you are right." He released his husband and walked over to the toaster. He was determined to at least finish making the breakfast. "Butter my dear doctor?" He asked as he took the toast out and put it onto a plate. He put raisin bread in the toaster for himself and pushed the button down.

"Just jam for me, thanks," John replied with a soft smile. He watched his husband as he leaned against the counter with his hip, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "We still going to eat in bed, then? Because I am still feeding you." A hand moved to tug at Sherlock's robe with a small smirk. "Except, possibly not on the bed...might get crumbs all over and I just washed the sheets."

Sherlock turned to look at John with a smirk. "Seems to me, the sheets might get washed a lot. I am sure there are spares in the linen closet, so we won't have to wash them repeatedly." He turned back around, walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. "Strawberry, grape, or raspberry? Mum gave us wide variety of everything."

"Raspberry," John replied smoothly, letting his eyes travel down Sherlock's back with a raised brow. "Keep it out," he muttered as an afterthought, tugging at his husband's robe again. Christ, if Sherlock didn't stop looking so irresistible they were going to have heart attacks. He didn't want to stop shagging his husband but, at this point, he was worried he might even have trouble getting an erection. "Want to lick it off you," he said with a smirk.

"Of course you do." Sherlock smirked back and grabbed the jar of jam. He used a knife to spread the raspberry jam onto the toast. "OJ is on the counter over there," he said as he handed John the plate. His toast popped up and put butter on it and then cut it in half. He got out milk, put it in a small sauce pan began boiling it on the stove. He added cocoa when it was done, stirred it and then put it in a mug. He dipped the toast in the hot chocolate before taking a bite.

John laughed as he pour himself a cup of orange juice, watching his husband curiously. "Making hot chocolate on the stove: simple. Pouring orange juice: difficult." He laughed again and shrugged, moving over to his husband. Chocolate. He set his glass down roughly, some of the juice sloshing over the sides, and pulling his husband down for a kiss. In no time at all his tongue was in Sherlock's mouth, moving around eagerly. God, he tasted like chocolate and raisins and it was _perfect._

Sherlock gave a faint smirk. "Charlie used to make it like that for me when I was younger. You should have seen the mess I made when I first tried to make it." The smirk got bigger. He almost dropped his mug since he hadn't been expecting the kiss. He returned it though, feeling around behind him to put the cup of hot cocoa down on the counter and then wrapped both arms his husband. He continued the kiss eagerly, his body pressing into John's.

John moaned softly and pulled away, panting and blushing. "Take another drink," he said through a deep breath, nodding toward the cup behind his husband. "Please, take another drink," he nearly begged. The taste of chocolate in Sherlock's mouth had been a perfect mix for that the man usually tasted like. Rich, sweet. He moaned at the thought again and reached behind his husband, grabbing the mug of hot chocolate and putting it up to Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock was about to reach around for the cup when John put the mug to his lips. He raised his eyebrows questioningly but took another drink anyway. He took the mug away from his husband and leaned in for second kiss. John had seemed to rather enjoy the kissing after having had the hot chocolate. He didn't want to disappoint his husband and his tongue went into the other mouth immediately.

John stood on his toes and pinned Sherlock to the counter, his hands tangling in his husband's hair as he returned the kiss. Why hadn't he tried this before? It was glorious and he never wanted to stop. Except he probably should because Sherlock had been eating. He pulled away slowly, licking Sherlock's lips before his own, and grinning slightly. "Sorry.. I just..." He cleared his throat and reached over, picking up Sherlock's piece of toast and holding it up for him to take a bite. "That was good."

Sherlock smirked down at John. "Like that did you?" He leaned forward and took a bite of the food, his tongue purposefully running along his husband's finger. "Maybe we should use the chocolate syrup instead of the raspberry jam." The smirk got bigger and he took another bite of the toast, his tongue lapping at John's fingers once more. He brought the mug up to his lips, took a drink and then leaned down to kiss his husband again.

Oh, good Lord. Sherlock was teasing him. John moaned into the kiss, placing the bread on the counter and returning it the best he could. Sherlock's mouth was warm and sweet and John _couldn't_ stop kissing him. Now he couldn't decide if he wanted Sherlock's tongue in his mouth or on his fingers. Bloody husband, being so damn wonderful at everything. His lips and tongue moved slowly, taking everything in, as his hips pressed forward slowly.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss when John's hips pressed against his. He pressed back eagerly, the kiss getting a little more aggressive in his excitement. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get an erection after everything they had done, but this was feeling wonderful and he didn't want it to stop. His free hand wrapped around his husband, fingers scratching at the bare back.

It wasn't a surprise that their morning ended up here. Pressed against a kitchen counter, snogging and rutting against each other. John was sexually exhausted, that wasn't a surprise either, but being close to Sherlock was nice. It was something he had missed for a month. He pulled away from his husband with a small whimper, taking several deep breaths and slowly opening his eyes. "I love you," he whispered with a sheepish smile.

Sherlock smiled down at John. "I love you too." He gave a small kiss on his husband's nose. He finished off his hot chocolate and set the empty mug on the counter. "Now that we have had a most delicious breakfast what else would you like to do today my dear doctor? Did you still want to visit the village up the way or did you want to stay in?" He smiled suggestively, but he honestly wasn't sure if he would be able to perform at all today.

That mischievous smile on his husband's face could only mean one thing, but John couldn't do anything today. He didn't even get an erection during that kissing. "Village," he said with a soft smile. "I will buy you something. Your brother put my last Army paycheck in my bank account." He placed a soft kiss against Sherlock's neck and glanced toward the bedroom. "And maybe tonight we will put the chocolate syrup to good use." He winked at his husband and moved into the bedroom with a small laugh.

Sherlock was actually okay with that and nodded in agreement. As he followed John into the bedroom he couldn't help but smirk. "That is going to be terribly messy but very fun." His Mum had given him money, despite his protests against it. He kept that to himself for now, since John seemed intent on spending his own. "I am going to shower, want to join me?" There hadn't be anything sexual about the question, he had merely wanted John's company.

"You said we had extra sheets," John shot back over his shoulder with a grin. "So messy is a risk I am willing to take," he added as he pulled his boxers off and tossed them across the room with a laugh. "Why not? We will save water and I will get to enjoy your slightly tan body." He brushed by Sherlock and turned the water to the shower on, stepping in. There was a lot of room and he was fairly sure that at some point they would have sex in it. "Any idea on what you might like?" He stood under the spray with a sigh, his body relaxing. "Shirt? Fancy tourist blanket?" He laughed.

Sherlock followed John into the bathroom and then the shower. "We should probably get extra sheets, just in case." He smirked and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. He put some on his hand and then scrubbed it into his husband's hair, scratching lightly.

John relaxed instantly, leaning against his husband with a sigh. That was wonderful. Sherlock's hand in his hair was his favorite thing in the world. He let his eyes slipped close as he chuckled slightly. "You think we will really need them?" He asked with another laugh, a hand dropping to scratch slightly at his husband's side.

Sherlock moved slightly to the side so the spray of water could rinse out John's hair. He smirked and then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. You said something about flavored lube and we are definitely _trying_ those out." The smirk got bigger as he grabbed the conditioner and applied it to his husband's head.

John tensed. Oh, right. Flavored. He winced slightly. "Why exactly is it flavored?" He asked softly. "I...don't exactly want to lick your arse," he muttered. "I mean, no offense, you've got a wonderful arse, Sherlock, but I am not so keen on putting my mouth all over it." He was blushing now, felt the heat spreading across his face to the tip of his ears. "This is embarrassing."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my dear doctor, no no no. I mean, some people are into that I am sure. You would not believe some of the things I have read in those books about sex. Speaking of books on sex, for some reason Mummy thought I would be interested in some book called '50 Shades of Grey' to give me something to read while we are honeymoon. Not impressed so far... Anyway, I was thinking the lube could be used for blowjobs? Maybe? If you would want to try that?" He moved again so John's hair could get rinsed.

"Your _Mum_ gave you _that book_?" John sputtered slightly on some water, finding it difficult to decide if he was laughing or starting to cry. "What, has she not heard us? That was the last thing we need is some horrid book about sex," he muttered, clearly a bit put off by the idea. "I...wouldn't mind using it for blow jobs." He shrugged and relaxed a bit more as the warm water rinsed his hair and ran down his body. "I mean, they have got quite an impressive array of flavors. I've never had a problem with... _t_ _he taste_ but sure."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You've heard of it? Have you read it?" He was genuinely curious now. He had never heard of the book until his mother had given it to him. Was it popular? His Mum had insisted it was a good read and so he had accepted it with some reluctance. He picked up a bar of soap and began to lather John's body up.

"I have heard of it, yeah," John slurred out at the feeling of Sherlock washing his body. "Haven't read it though. Harry told me it was rubbish. If Harry doesn't like it then it must be horrible. Learned that when I was fifteen," he said with a weak smile. "Have you started reading it?" He asked curiously, opening his eyes to glance up at his husband.

"I mustered through the first chapter while you slept last night." Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Like I said, not impressed so far. Not sure I will finish it. It is on the nightstand if you want to read it." He moved yet again, putting the soap away and grabbed the bottle of shampoo for a second time. He added it to his hair, still staying out of the spray until it was time to rinse.

John giggled and turned, pushing his husband's hands away so he could reach up and wash his hair. "Sherlock, that book will possibly drop your I.Q. so don't read it. Let's burn it. Toss it in the ocean." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek as he continued to wash his hair. Good Lord, only the Holmes family would give a book about sex to each other. On a bloody honeymoon, of all things.

Sherlock dropped his hands to his side and leaned over, to let John work on his head. "So it is a book that Anderson would read." He smirked a bit. "The book belongs to my mother. Pretty sure she is expecting to get it back once we return back home."

John laughed softly but it was cut short at the mention of Nancy. "I...that's...I feel like she can do better than that book," he whispered as he pushed his husband's head up to rinse the shampoo out. He grabbed the soap and held it under the spray for a moment before starting to clean Sherlock's body. "What flavor lube do you want to use then?" He asked softly as the soap ran down Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock shrugged. "Maybe. Guess she thought I would like it too." His eyes closed in contentment when John soaped up his body. "I don't know. I will have to look at the different flavors, see if anything catches my interest. Unless you had one in mind my dear doctor?"

"I have already got one picked out for me," John admitted softly, moving Sherlock under the spray of the water with an embarrassed smile. He had gone through every flavor while Sherlock was asleep, half mortified and half interested. "Grape," he whispered against his husband's ear as he reached for the conditioner.

Sherlock nodded with a smirk. The feeling of John's hands on his body felt wonderful and relaxing, his eyes remaining closed. "Did you want to eat lunch in the village?" He probably wouldn't eat again until tomorrow sometime but he knew his husband would need to eat more often than he did.

"Sure." John reached up at started working the conditioner into Sherlock's hair. "Try some wine," he stated with a soft smile. "I bet the food here is amazing. Pizza. I want to try pizza," he stated excitedly. Just the thought made his stomach growl, the noise echoing through the large shower. "Would you want some coffee while we are up there?" Don't push the subject. Don't force Sherlock to eat. That was what had ruined the first month of their marriage.

"Maybe. If I am feeling up to when the time comes." Sherlock shrugged again. "Your hands feel wonderful," he admitted as he opened his eyes. He smiled down at John and then kissed him on the lips. It was difficult for him to keep his hands off his husband. The last month had been hard and he was still trying to make up for lost time.

John grinned into the kiss, nipping at Sherlock's bottom lip. "I know. Every part of me is perfect, really," he replied. Perhaps trying out some of Sherlock's confidence would help him around his husband. He pushed Sherlock's head back into the spray and stood on his toes to kiss his husband again. It was nice not running out of hot water, he thought as he pushed Sherlock up against the wall.

Sherlock smirked and backed up into the wall without protest. He wrapped his arms around John, and kissed his husband again. This time his tongue darted and pushed its way into his husband's mouth. He pulled John closer still, moaning into the kiss.

That moan, good Lord. Sherlock's voice was enough but when John got that noise out of him, he always wanted more. He grinned against his husband's lips and took a deep breath through his nose. Bloody wonderful kisser. He pulled away to suck in a deep breath, moving his mouth to Sherlock's neck without a second thought. "Love you," he murmured into his husband's skin.

Sherlock hadn't meant to start anything in the shower but he certainly didn't mind how things were turning out. He tilted his head up for John, with another moan. "Love you too." His eyes closed, finding bliss in this particular moment. He began trailing his fingers lightly along his husband's slick back.

Right. So even as adults they acted like teenagers in that every situation between them had to be sexual at some point. Granted, they hadn't really done much since the night of their wedding but John couldn't help but laugh and pull away from Sherlock's neck, looking up at him. "Sorry, I just ruined your unromantic shower plans," he said with a soft smile, glancing toward the glass door to the shower. "I can't do anything right now, sorry." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock opened his eyes to look down at John, a smirk tugging at his lips. "It is fine. Not sure I could do anything either." He reached behind him and turned off the shower before stepping out of it. He grabbed a towel and began drying himself off as he walked into the bedroom. Once dry, he let the towel drop to the floor and he took out a nice button up shirt and slacks. Even on vacation he had nice clothes to wear.


	26. Chapter 26

John followed after his husband and grabbed his own towel, dropping it on the floor of the bedroom as he moved to the dresser and looked around. Sherlock was dressing nice. Of course he was. The man only owned nice clothes. John bit his bottom lips and grabbed a short-sleeve, button up shirt, slipping it over his shoulders. He grabbed a pair of old jeans and slipped them on before glancing at his husband. "I am going to buy you a new outfit," he muttered. "Of not dress-up clothes."

Sherlock frowned a bit in confusion as he turned to look at John. "Why?" He liked the clothes he owned. Dressing nice was the Holmes way. It was weird to think about wearing anything else. He finished putting on his clothes and then his shoes. It was strange enough not to have his coat and scarf to wear, but they weren't needed in this climate. He strapped his watch to his wrist and grabbed his wallet.

John watched his husband with a smile. "Because I wouldn't mind seeing you in jeans," he stated softly as he grabbed his mobile and his own wallet. "And you have got wonderful arms," he whispered as he moved to wrap his husband's arms around his waist. "And I want the world to know what is all mine." He grinned and gently met Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He leaned into John's body, his hands resting upon his husband's. "Just want to show me off, huh?" He smirked. "Not that I blame you since I am so amazing and perfect." The smirk got bigger, squeezing one of John's hands lightly.

John returned the squeeze with a roll of his eyes. "Git," he muttered into Sherlock's back with a small laugh. He was nervous about telling his husband that. Asking him to eat and sleep had led to a month of Hell for them both. This was pretty drastic. "Just...one outfit, yeah? If you _really_ hate it then I won't force it on you, promise." He closed his eyes.

"I am old enough to pick out my own clothes you know," Sherlock replied with a feigned upset tone. He squeezed John's hand one more time before pulling away from his husband and turning around to face the other man. "Come on then my dear doctor, let's go make me do more domestic things like shopping." He smirked as he grabbed John's hand and led his husband out of the bedroom and then out of the house.

John laughed and squeezed his husband's hand. "You have wonderful taste in clothes and, yes, you are old enough to buy your own clothes but...humor me," he said with a small smile. It wasn't often Sherlock would actually agree to these little things that made him happy so he was going to take advantage of it. "Hell, I won't even buy them if you just put some jeans and a t-shirt and I get to look at you," his voice trailed off as they entered the tiny village and he took the time to glance around with his mouth slightly open.

Sherlock smirked a bit at John. "Since you are the shopping expert, I will just follow you around to wherever. Just so long as we don't have to stop at every shop to try something on?" He really didn't want to do the latter. That would end up being too much for him. "Unless there is something else you want to do first?"

"Shag you," John commented softly before tugging his husband toward a rather nice looking store. "Here. We will look in this store." He tugged Sherlock in the door and smiled a bit. It was simple. Clothes like Sherlock's mixed with jeans and shirts that cost more than his entire wardrobe. "Want to try some if I pick them out? Then we can shag in the changing room because you will be so damn attractive?"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "That is fine. I look _damn attractive_ in anything or nothing for that matter." The smirk got bigger for a moment before he gave a slight shrug. "I am not sure how effective I will be shagging but that doesn't mean we can't try." A retail clerk came up to them and he dismissed the clerk in Italian.

"Snog, I don't care." John said with a laugh, glancing at the clerk. "Right." He pulled away from his husband and quickly grabbed a shirt. It was simple, gray, and extremely soft. "This," he muttered to himself before standing on his toes to survey the rest of the store. Jeans. Dark, John decided. Anything he picked up would probably look marvelous on his husband. "Do you know what size you are?" He turned back to his husband with a raised brow.

Sherlock smirked at John again. He took the shirt and looked it briefly before glancing up at his husband. He shook his head and he hesitated before replying. "Mummy has always bought my clothes," he admitted, cleared his throat, and then looked back down to the grey shirt he was holding.

"It is fine." John smiled at Sherlock and hesitated slightly. "Like that shirt? It's simple. Looks really nice, I think." He approached his husband and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "It will look good on you." He pulled away and moved to the jeans. It was too difficult to guess what pair his husband would need. He grabbed the slimmest pair, dark and faded at the thighs a bit. Perfect. "Like these?"

Sherlock shrugged. To him it was just a shirt. Not something he would usually wear, so he was more or less impartial to it. "It looks fine." He looked at the jeans and nodded. He actually did like those. Dark pants had always suited him. "They look like they will fit too." He leaned in close to John with a smirk. "Do you join me in the dressing room before or after I change?"

John blushed and glanced around the store. It was a rather simple answer, really. "I go in with you," John muttered, glancing up at his husband with a proud, confident smile. "You know, help you get them on." He snatched the shirt away from his husband, held on to the jeans and moved toward the dressing rooms. The young man working them gave them a small card to slip on the door and he pulled Sherlock in with him. "Here." He hung the clothes up on the wall and started unbuttoning his husband's shirt.

Sherlock smirked as he followed after John. Once they were in the dressing room he leaned forward to whisper in his husband's ear. "I don't think you have tried to undress me this quickly before." The smirk returned when he pulled his head up to look at John.

John just grunted in reply. Off. Those clothes needed to be _off_. In their relationship, he was usually shy and was happy to keep his sex life private. But now, in a changing room, John suddenly didn't care. "These clothes will look good on you. Excited to see it," he lied smoothly, placing a kiss on the exposed section of his husband's chest.

Sherlock smirked because he knew better. He put his arms around John, drawing his husband into a hug. He tilted his down to kiss his partner, his tongue taking no time at all to enter the other mouth. Was the honeymoon going to be like these the whole time? Apart of him hoped so, although he wasn't sure if it was physically possible.

John moaned softly into the kiss, his hands freezing on Sherlock's half-unbuttoned shirt. His knees were going to give out. The kiss was wonderful. He pulled away slowly, panting as he looked up at his husband. At this point he was convinced he married a God. "I love you," he whispered as he finished undoing Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock smirked down at John. "Love you too." He released his husband from the hug, so the other man could continue to undress him. "Might have to let you do this more often." He smirked again as he removed his arms from the sleeves of the shirt.

John laughed and grabbed the gray shirt, pulling it off the hanger and sliding it over Sherlock's head with a smile. Christ, it looked wonderful on him. The man had a glorious body, especially for the amount he didn't actually work out. "God, it brings out your eyes really well. I am buying it and then shagging you in it," he commented softly, moving his hand down slowly the button and zipper of his husband's trousers.

Sherlock looked down at the shirt he was now wearing with a raised eyebrow. "Like it that much?" He smirked as he looked up to John. His body reacted immediately to his husband undoing his trouser. He couldn't help but press into John with a soft moan. He leaned his head forward and began kissing his husband's neck. Well, it looked like they may shag in the dressing room after all.

The mouth on his neck made John's hands falter, his breath catching in his throat. Shit. This felt wonderful. "Trousers aren't even off," he whispered with a small laugh, his hands moving again. He managed to get the button and zipper undone, his hand sliding to cup his husband through his underwear. "God, you feel wonderful," he whispered as he let his head fall back to expose more of his neck.

Sherlock smirked again but continued to kiss John's neck for awhile before he began sucking and biting on it in excitement. "Likewise," he murmured with a slight growl. He pressed into his husband further, so he could back the other man into the dressing room door. His body writhed into John's, the lips on his husband's neck becoming a little more aggressive.

John backed up without hesitation, letting his back press against the door with a low moan. What was it now with his neck? Before Sherlock he didn't enjoy this but now it turned him onto the point of him not being able to control himself. His free hand wrapped around Sherlock's torso, scratching at his back through the shirt. His other hand squeezed his husband's penis through his underwear.

Sherlock put a hand on the door for support, the other hand clawing at John's chest through the shirt. He moaned into his husband's neck from his partner's touch. His body pressed into John's eagerly and to his surprise he was beginning to get an erection. Although his cock wasn't getting hard as quickly as it usually did. He moved his lips up to his husband's ear where he began to nibble lightly and breathe heavily.

It shouldn't surprise him that Sherlock was getting hard. John took a deep breath and pushed back at Sherlock. "Sit," he whispered, pushing his husband toward the small bench in the corner. He couldn't get an erection despite the circumstances. Perhaps he was just a bit too old for that. "Sit," he repeated.

Sherlock continued to nip at John's ear but when he was asked to sit a second time he finally pulled away. He moved backward and sat down as instructed. He wondered what his husband had in mind. Hand job? Blow job? Something else? He was going to be sensitive that much he knew and he doubted he would last long. Just thinking about the possibilities made him squirm.

John dropped to his knees instantly, glancing up at his husband before slightly pulling Sherlock's underwear down. "Sorry," he whispered, tugging Sherlock's cock free and placing a soft kiss on the tip. "Can't get hard. I am a bit older than you." He hollowed his cheeks out and lowered his mouth on his husband's penis slowly.

Sherlock was about to reply but he moaned when he felt his cock in John's mouth. He should probably try to be a bit quieter with people being around. Both hands grabbed the edge of the bench tightly and with restraint he managed not to thrust forward.

John pulled up slowly, exhaling loudly through his nose as he lifted a hand up to move over his husband's mouth. If they got caught they would get arrested. Christ, this shouldn't be as hot as it was. He placed a gentle hand under Sherlock's hip, lifting up slightly with a bit of a smirk.

As soon as John's hand was over his mouth, Sherlock ran his tongue over the palm slowly and deliberately. He bit down on his lip in excitement, his body writhing some. The grip on the bench got tighter, his fingers turning white. Close now. So very close.

John moaned around Sherlock's cock, swallowing hard and pulling his head up slowly again. "Up," he managed to get out, looking up at his husband. He shifted on his knees and used his free hand to lift Sherlock's hips up, his mouth moving down until his nose bumped against his husband's stomach. He gagged slightly and pulled back up, bobbing his head up and down as quick as he could manage. The hand on Sherlock's mouth curled, his fingernails digging into his partner's cheek slightly.

Sherlock complied but he didn't stay standing long as he came and then collapsed back down into the bench. Although no real work had been done his part, it had left him feeling tired and breathing deeply. He probably should have turned down the blowjob but it had been so wonderful, saying no hadn't even occurred to him. He leaned his against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to breathe quietly.

John swallowed with practiced ease, pulling away with a small gasp and letting his hands drop to Sherlock's thighs. "Sorry," he whispered as he finally managed to take a deep breath. "Couldn't help myself. Oh, God." He dropped his head on to his husband's thigh with a small laugh. "That was good."

"It is fine." Sherlock smiled and brought up a hand to run it through John's hair. "You just want to wear me out so I will sleep tonight." His smile quirked into a smirk, his fingers scratching lightly against his husband's scalp. "Like the jeans," he admitted. "I should make sure they fit first though." However, he didn't bother to get up.

"You figured out my evil plan," John said with a soft smile. He should have moved to put the jeans on his husband but the feeling of Sherlock's fingers scratching at his scalp felt too amazing. "God, you have exhausted me. Not even that made me hard." He laughed softly as he shifted and grabbed the jeans. "Do you like the shirt?"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "It is because you are an old man already." His fingers continued to scratch John's head. He gave a slight shrug at the question. "It is okay. I don't hate it. Just another shirt to me." He really didn't feel like getting up but the retail clerk might get suspicious if they stayed in the dressing room any longer. He got up slowly, reached over and grabbed the jeans. He pulled them on. They fit perfectly. Apparently John had a good eye for that kind of thing. "Maybe you should have been a tailor." He smirked over to his husband.

John stood slowly, choosing to ignore the old man comment and instead studying his husband in casual clothing. "I like it," he muttered, admiring the jeans. "I will buy the outfit for you," he stated softly. "If you want. I...like it a lot." He licked his lips and shifted on his feet nervously. He didn't want to force anything on Sherlock but, Christ, he looked wonderful.

"It is fine. Don't be so nervous my dear doctor." Sherlock smiled as he changed back into his clothes. He gave the outfit to John and then walked out of the dressing room. He walked to the counter where customers paid, while he waited for his husband to make the purchase. Finding the clothes had gone by much faster than he anticipated and he wondered what they would do next. Was this what ordinary people did on a daily basis?

John followed after his husband with a small smile, pulling out his card and sliding it through the machine. After a few moments of waiting the machine beeped. Declined. Oh, shit. He cleared his throat and slid his card again. Another beep. Wonderful. "I, um, sorry. I should have-" He glanced at Sherlock and dropped his gaze to the floor.

Should he offer to pay for it or would it just make John feel worse? Sherlock got an idea and turned to face his husband. "Sorry about that, I gave you the wrong card. Here." He opened his wallet and offered the credit card his mother had given him before they had left on their honeymoon. Hopefully by trying to pass it off as a mistake, it would be less awkward for John.

John glanced down at the card for a moment before grabbing it and smiling slightly. "Just like you, forgetting things." He stood on his toes and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. He turned and ran the card through the machine, smiling when it was accepted and the cashier started to put the clothes in a bag. Still embarrassing. Couldn't even afford a nice outfit for Sherlock.

Sherlock made a scoffing noise but managed a smirk. "Yes, sorry about that _darling_. You know me and my terrible forgetful mind. You had better hold onto the card, so I don't forget again." The smirk grew marginally as he grabbed John's hand and lead him back out into the village. "What now my dear doctor?"

John pocketed the card slowly and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Sorry," he whispered softly. "Just wanted to get you something nice." He glanced around the village for a moment. "We could...Wine? I have never been to a wine tasting."

Sherlock returned the squeeze. "It is fine. You should save your money. Mummy would have a fit anyway, if she knew you spent any of your money. You don't want to upset my mother, now do you?" He turned and smirked at his husband. "Wine tasting? Sure. I am sure they have a vineyard or maybe a distillery around here somewhere."

John glanced around. "There?" He pointed to a small path that led up a hill and into a rather large building. "Are you losing your touch, detective?" He smirked at his husband. "Wine tasting. Romantic. Look at us, a regular couple, _honey_." He tugged Sherlock toward the building.

Sherlock huffed. "I saw it…" He muttered as he trailed after John. "Yes. Look at me being domestic, _dear_." He looked around as they entered the building. The smell was what he noticed the most. It was sweet. He glanced to the man who approached them and he had a brief conversation in Italian. "Come on." This time he tugged John with him as he followed after the owner.

Wow. This place was a bit fancier than he had thought. John froze for a moment and stumbled forward when Sherlock tugged him. Right. Wine tasting. Because his husband was perfect and knew every language. Of course he would know how to get everything put together. "Oh, _sweetheart_ , you woo me with your words." He let his eyes glance at Sherlock as they walked, entering a large open room with a several long tables.

Sherlock smirked. "Right well _babe_ , you know me. My words are perfect and laced with silver." Christ, what the hell did that mean? He was pretty sure it didn't mean anything, but it had sounded good at the time. The owner looked back at the couple and began speaking quickly but Sherlock managed to keep up. He replied, gave the man some money, and the owner left. "He will be right back." He had given more than enough money to cover anything they may try while here. "He is also willing to give us a tour, private if you want. See how everything is made." He smirked smugly.

John laughed and stood on his toes to place a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "Fine with me. Whatever you want," he stated as he glanced around the room. The amount of money Sherlock handed the man was astonishing, really. They probably could have bought the place. "What is he doing, then?" John asked curiously. " _Love_."

"He is going to bring us a tray of a variety of wines for us to try, obviously, s _ugar plum_." Sherlock managed to keep a straight face when he spoke. He was running out of cheesy terms of endearments. Maybe he would just start making things up. He was determined to win this little game they had apparently started. "We don't have to take the tour if you don't want to. The owner merely offered it."

" _Cupcake_ , that sounds lovely to me. Did you save his life once?" John asked with a laugh as he looked around the open room again. "Tour. Wine. I don't care." He bit his bottom lip and shrugged. "Being with you is enough." Cheesy. Oh well, it was true. They could be sitting in a cardboard box for all he cared. If Sherlock was at his side he was happy.

"Okay _sweetie_." Did that count since John already used 'sweetheart' earlier? Sherlock was about to say more but the owner returned with a tray full of wine glasses. There was some deep red, others were champagne white and wide ranges in between. He wondered how the man managed to balance so many glasses without spilling a drop. He thanked the owner as he took two glasses. "Here _sugar pie_ ," he said as he offered a glass to John. _There._ Two terms of endearment. He was definitely going to win this little game, he was certain.

"Thank you, _pooh_ _bear_ ," John smirked and grabbed the glass from his husband. So many glasses. And then an odd brown container between them. He decided to not ask questions and took a large gulp of the red wine in his glass, swallowing it with a small smile. "Sweet. I like it." He took another large sip and nodded. " _Angel_ , what do you think?" Nailed it. He was winning this.

The owner's eyes went wide and the man began talking animatedly to John. Sherlock smiled and managed to smooth things over. " _Lover boy,_ you are supposed to taste the wine not chug it. Like so." He swirled the contents, sniffed it, took a sip and spit out. "See? If you drank all the wine offered you will just get drunk. So do try to take it easy there _dumpling._ "

John was too focused on Sherlock and their silly little game to listen to what his husband had said. He had seen Sherlock spit the wine out. Must not have liked it. C'mon, Watson. Think. He turned away from the owner and finished his glass, picking up another one. " _Baby_ _cakes_ , I liked the last one." He took a sip of the new glass, a white wine. Tart. He swallowed it with a small sound of appreciation. " _Sex_ _God_ , can we buy a bottle if we really like one?" Another gulp from his glass.

Mortification would best describe the look on the Italian's face as the man watched John drink the wine. " _Tootsie roll,_ " Sherlock paused, wasn't that a candy? "At this point I am sure Arnaldo here would let us take a bottle just so you will stop downing all the wine like a drunkard _teddy bear_. I don't think a tour would be advisable at this rate _pootsky_." Okay, now he was just making things up. However, he had up the ante up to three names now.

They were at a wine tasting. That was what John was doing. He finished his second glass and glanced at his husband with a confused expression. This wasn't make any sense at all. " _Sherly._ " He took a deep breath. That wine was a bit more powerful than he was used to. "What in the world are you talking about? I am tasting the wine, _honey_ _bee_." God, was he already drunk? That one was horrible. He licked his lips. His cheeks were flushed and he suddenly couldn't keep a stupid smile off of his lips. " _Boo_ , this was a good idea." He grabbed the glass from Sherlock's hand and finished it off in one gulp.

Sherlock apologized repeatedly to the Italian man, who was growing increasingly upset. " _Johnny_ , no more wine for you. _Adorable_ little you certainly doesn't need to buy a bottle either. Besides, there is wine back at the beach house if you are really set on getting soused, we can do it back there so I don't have to carry you, _my lovely._ "

John leaned forward against his husband, burying his face into Sherlock's chest with a small hiccup. "Smell good." He licked his lips and pressed further into Sherlock. "Can I have some more?" He looked up at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile, a hand moving down to tug at the waistband of his husband's trousers. "Want you," he slurred, reaching for another glass of wine. He really liked wine tasting.

Sherlock took a step back, but he had his arms and hands ready to catch John should his husband fall forward. "John," he used a sharp tone to try and get his partner's attention. "No more. Come on I will help you back." He apologized in Italian once more. "Let's go my dear doctor. If you really want more wine, we can get you some back at the beach house." He decided to ignore his husband's last comment.

Sherlock's sharp tone made John's hand drop quickly to his side. His husband sounded upset. "Sorry." He glanced at the glasses of wine before taking a step forward, tripping slightly and falling against his husband. That wine was strong. Why didn't anybody tell him? Had he missed it? Shit, he should have been paying attention. "Think 'm drunk," he muttered into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock supported John easily and he helped his husband to stand straight. His tone softened when he spoke again. "It is fine, but we should go now my dear doctor." He linked their arms together to help support his partner as he began steering them out of the building. He tried to keep John as steady as he could as they walked down the streets of the village.

Focus. John walked the best he could, clinging tightly to Sherlock's arm. He had just ruined the day, he was sure. That wasn't very good. When they entered the beach house he slumped heavily against his husband. "Want you," he repeated softly, standing on his toes to place several soft kisses on the side of Sherlock's neck.

"Not when you are drunk," Sherlock replied firmly. He guided John to the bedroom and onto the bed. Maybe his husband would be able to sleep this off. He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned so he could watch John. It was a bit disappointing to see his husband like this but not surprising. It wasn't the first time John had gotten drunk since being together. Although, last time had been because of a fight. This time was different. His husband couldn't hold his liquor apparently, which he did find surprising.

John rested on his back and studied Sherlock, boldly meeting his gaze. "Then 'm not drunk." He reached out and tugged at the waistband of his husband's trousers. Not thinking straight. He really just wanted Sherlock inside him. Rough. Hard. In the haze that had become his mind he slowly decided that he was never drinking wine again.

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "John. No." He got up off the bed, but stood near it as he looked down at his husband with a frown. He thought about leaving the bedroom but he didn't want to leave John alone. He was worried if he did leave his husband could potentially and inadvertently get hurt.

John watched Sherlock stand and shifted slightly on the bed. "Okay," he muttered as his eyes slowly closed. "Your loss," he slurred out as he sat up. Shoes. His fingers fumbled as he attempted to untie his shoes, his torso swaying back and forth as he did.

The frown on his face deepened as Sherlock continued to watch John. He finally moved back over to his husband to help the other man with the shoes. "Here, let me." He moved John's hands out of the way and began untying and pulling the shoes off.

John watched Sherlock and took a deep breath. "'M sorry," he mumbled. It had only taken two and a half hours for him to ruin the day. He had enough of his mind in tact right now to feel bad. "I love you." He swallowed hard. Maybe it was time to talk to Sherlock about things. About his problems. "Can we talk when 'm not drunk?" He asked softy.

Once the shoes were off Sherlock turned to look at John and study his husband thoughtfully for a moment. Talk? Had he done something wrong again? Doubt was not something he was used to and he didn't like this feeling that had come about since being with John. Maybe his husband would forget about it when he sobered up. "Yeah sure," he agreed anyway. He had told John he would work on this whole communication thing, but now he wondered if it was something he was going to come to regret.

Maybe he should just tell Sherlock now while liquid courage was rushing through his veins. "I had a drinking problem," John blurted out, watching his husband as carefully as a drunk man could. "After my second tour in Iraq. I came back and was alone so I blew my paychecks at the pub." He hiccuped slightly. "I was drunk every night. Don't know how I made it home sometimes. Would wake up with random women in my bed." He closed his eyes and swallowed. The room was spinning. God, he didn't feel good. "'m sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know." He reached out blindly for his husband.

Oh. Was it wrong he felt relieved? Probably. He couldn't seem to get anything else about married life right. It made even more sense why John hadn't wanted to stay with Harry after coming back from Afghanistan. Sherlock sat back down on the bed and took his husband's seeking hand and gave it gentle reassuring squeeze. "John I am a megalomaniac with a drug addiction problem. Trust me when I say it's fine." He gave his husband a slight smirk.

John giggled and tugged at Sherlock's arm. "Wanna snuggle against you. C'mere." He squirmed slightly on the bed. They would probably talk about it more when he was sober. If Sherlock wouldn't shag him then he was going to snuggle the Hell out of him. "Still want you," he muttered. He didn't care if it was selfish.

Sherlock moved up the bed and snuggled into John a bit. He didn't get as close as usual because his husband's breath smelled of alcohol. "I am not going to shag you while you are drunk. Maybe that will give you incentive not to drink so much next time." He smirked faintly at John once more.

John narrowed his eyes slightly. "No," he stated simply and shifted down the bed, curling himself into his husband's side and burying his face against Sherlock's ribs. "Why?" He asked, whining slightly as he nipped at Sherlock's ribs through his shirt. "Is good when you are drunk," he muttered.

Sherlock sighed. "John, stop it." He was beginning to get irritated with his husband now and his voice conveyed the agitation. He sat up and got off the bed. "Just sleep of off," he muttered. Cigarettes sounded wonderful now. He was getting stressed out by the situation and nothing calmed him down like a good smoke.

"Fine," John growled and yanked roughly at the blankets to cover himself. "You are a horrible shag anyway," he muttered like a child. It was clear that John being drunk led him to act like a five year old. He rolled so his back was facing Sherlock. "Night," he snapped as he curled into himself and closed his eyes.

Sherlock frowned at John's back. His husband was drunk; no point in taking stock in what was said. He left the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. He wished he had brought his violin, or even a pack of cigarettes to help calm his fraying nerves. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he just sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh.


	27. Chapter 27

John fell asleep almost instantly, staying asleep for several hours. He woke up slowly with a groan. Shit, the sun was shining right in his eyes. Had he...? Oh. The wine tasting. And...he had called his husband a bad shag. Not good. He stood slowly, blinking several times before moving into the kitchen. "Hi," he muttered at his husband. "I ruined your day, didn't I?"

After awhile, Sherlock lost track of time and eventually put his head on the table to rest. He didn't sleep but John speaking startled him. He lifted his head to look at his husband. He gave a small smile and shrugged. "It wasn't what I had in mind," he admitted.

John blushed slightly. "You aren't a bad shag," he said softly as he sat across from his husband. "And...sorry about, um, what I told you." He smiled briefly. "Kind of a lightweight these days. Didn't know you were supposed to spit it back out." He reached across the table and grabbed Sherlock's hand. "You have some will power. When I am drunk I want sex. A lot. You stayed strong," he half joked.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows a bit. "I tried to tell you, but I guess you didn't feel like listening." He smirked and then gave a slight shrug. "And like I said I won't shag you while you are drunk." He looked up at John and held the gaze, his voice firm and filled with resolve.

"Admittedly I was a bit focused on trying to find a pet name to call you," John said with a small smile. "Thank you," he held his husband's gaze and nodded. "I respect you for that." And he did. They both would have regretted it the moment they were done. "And if you ever get drunk I will hold the same promise. We probably shouldn't both get drunk."

"I don't plan on getting drunk again." Sherlock gave a slight smile and stood up from the table. "Sit down, I will make you some tea." He put the kettle on with practiced ease and got out two mugs. "Are you hungry? I can try to cook for you and hopefully I won't set anything on fire."

John shook his head at the mention of food. "Probably just throw it back up," he muttered with a small laugh. It felt a bit tense to him, like Sherlock was still a bit upset. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," he said softly. He stood up, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. "Thank you for putting up with me." He placed a soft kiss on the center of Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock returned the hug, his head resting on John's head. "It is fine." He squeezed his husband toward him slightly. He stood up straight and released John when he heard the kettle go off. He poured the hot liquid into the cups. He added sugar to one and milk to another.

"Good." John smiled and grabbed his cup, sipping it with a small smile. "How do you know how to put the perfect amount of sugar in?" He asked softly as he fell back into his chair. Alright, so not as upset as he thought. Considering he called his husband a 'horrible shag' things were going a lot better then he thought they would. "I...told you about the drinking, didn't I?"

Sherlock smirked. "Because I am good at everything I do. Except making toast, apparently." The smirk got bigger as he took a sip of tea. He nodded. "Yes, you did. It is fine. I told you about my drug problem. We just chose different vices to relieve the stress." He shrugged slightly and took another drink from the cup.

Right. He had planned on keeping that a bit of a secret from Sherlock. His husband didn't need to know about the drinking. At all. "Sorry," he muttered into his cup, taking a large gulp. It was the middle of the afternoon, three according to the bright lights on the microwave. "Do y'know what I just realized?" He grinned and bit his bottom lip. "I gave you a blow job in the dressing room of an expensive Italian clothing store." He giggled and set his cup down, shifting so his foot could rest on Sherlock's knee under the table.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure why John was apologizing but he nodded anyway. He couldn't help but smirk at his husband. "Yes, you did. Luckily we didn't get caught. If Mycroft had to get out of prison, he would most certainly have not been amused." He finished off his tea and lifted his other foot to rest on John's.

"That was...I have never done anything like that." John laughed and pushed his cup away slightly. "It made me realize how old I am compared to you...or, rather, how long three years actually is. Honestly, I couldn't get hard to save my life." He licked his lips nervously. Shit, they were going to have to take it easy for the rest of the honeymoon or Sherlock would be getting a lot of the action compared to him. "Any idea what you want to do the rest of the day?"

Sherlock had never really thought about the age difference between them. Perhaps he should show a little more self control. It wasn't fair to John otherwise, he supposed. He wasn't sure what to do with the rest of the day. "Maybe you could give me more swimming lessons and this time I will actually make dinner. Still owe you that."

"Didn't mind making you dinner," John commented softly, smiling a bit. "But why don't we do that? Teaching you to swim. That ended...pleasantly last time but we need you to learn to swim." The foot on Sherlock's knee wiggled up a bit and he slipped lower in his chair to reach. "I am determined." And he was because teaching Sherlock how to swim was just like Sherlock teaching him to dance. Something he wanted to do.

Sherlock stood with a nod of his head. He grabbed their cups and put them in the sink before heading to the bedroom to change. "I still can't believe you talked me into buying this..." He looked down at the suit and then glanced back up to John with a smirk. He grabbed a towel and the sunscreen. "Also, I look weird not pale..." he muttered to his already vaguely tan body.

"It is a nice suit." John grabbed his own and slowly started undressing, slipping it on with a glance in the direction of his husband. It was a bit odd to see his husband slightly tan. "I think you look wonderful." He moved forward and embraced his husband, standing slightly on his toes to place several soft kisses on Sherlock's neck. "It looks a bit nice, you know. Who knows, you might be as tan as me when we leave."

John's kisses made it hard to maintain the self control he had told himself he needed to have. "Mmm, maybe." Sherlock wasn't entirely sure he liked the idea of being tan. It wasn't that he abhorred going outside, but he was usually bundled up in a coat and scarf so his body had never really gotten the chance to tan.

John decided that Sherlock's neck was quiet the wonderful distraction. He let his tongue dart out, running up a tendon at the front of his husband's neck. "No pressure to get tan," he whispered, lowering his mouth to Sherlock's collarbone. "I like you however you are. You are beautiful." He let one hand drift to Sherlock's arse, giving it a soft squeeze.

So, much for self control. Sherlock pressed into John, despite his an inability to get hard right now. He wasn't sure how long he would have to wait until he was capable of getting an erection again. Probably not until tomorrow sometime. But damn, his husband's mouth on his body felt wonderful. He brought his hands up so he could scratch at John's back lightly, his body still pressing into his husband's.

It didn't matter that John couldn't get an erection, just being close to Sherlock, having him press against him like he was, was wonderful. He sucked at Sherlock's collarbone and squeezed his husband's arse again. Sod swimming. He would rather stay here and spoil his husband. "Love you," he whispered against Sherlock's chest, bending at his knees to suck at Sherlock's left nipple.

Well, swimming lessons certainly seemed out of the question at this point. Or at the very least delayed. It would probably be easier if they were laying down. Sherlock moved backward onto the bed, his hand grabbing John's wrist lightly and pulling his husband with him. He laid down on the bed, his body pressing into the man above him.

Perfect. There were advantages to being married to a genius. John followed Sherlock with a small gasp, nipped at the top of the scar that ran down the center of his chest. They couldn't shag but John was perfectly content to practically worshiping Sherlock's body. He pushed his dog tags up his husband's chest and let his mouth run along the scar slowly.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do with himself as John began to pay attention to pretty much his entire body. He continued to press into his husband, his arms wrapping around the man above him. One hand scratched on John's back, while the other rifted through his husband's hair. God, he wished he could get another erection right now because he wanted to shag John again.

John smirked slightly against Sherlock's chest. Now was a perfect time admire the man he married, even with that man squirming beneath him desperately. He turned his head, moving up slightly to place an open mouthed kiss on his husband's bicep, one of his hands lifting to run through Sherlock's hair. No talking. That would only result in Sherlock's cocky little comments. He settled for nipping at the skin on the inside of his husband's arm. "Love you," he whispered as he dropped his head and pressed his nose against Sherlock's jaw line.

When John's head came close enough, Sherlock began nibbling on the nearest ear eagerly."Love you too," he said into the ear he was lavishing with his tongue. He bucked into his husband even more, with a whimper of desire. Damn it. He wanted his partner desperately with every passing touch and kiss but there was nothing he could do with his pressing desire. His fingers dug a little deeper into John's skin in his frustration.

John gasped slightly from the attention, letting his hips roll into Sherlock's for a moment. This was supposed to be about his husband but he figured he could take some attention for a moment. Sherlock was always good with his mouth anyway. "Shit," he hissed as he felt his husband's fingernails. He pulled his ear away from Sherlock's mouth and turned his head, nipping at his partner's ear with a small moan.

Sherlock turned his head to meet John's mouth, his tongue taking no time at all to enter the other mouth. Snogging helped ease some of the frustration he was feeling, his fingers not scratching as roughly as they had been. He continued to writhe into his husband with want but the desired result still refused to come about.

Right. Snogging. John gasped slightly into the kiss, letting Sherlock control it for a while. His tongue moved hesitantly into his husband's mouth. God, he wanted to be a few years younger, wanted Sherlock. "Want you," he finally admitted against Sherlock's lips. Except it seemed to be a bit of a problem for both of them right now, especially since he had given his husband a blow job earlier in the day in a dressing room.

Sherlock continued to kiss John and it got progressively more aggressive. When it broke to allow speaking he smirked a bit. "Want you too, but…" He trailed off with a faint shrug of his shoulders. At this rate he didn't care if he gave or received, he just _wanted_ some form of shagging. Even though it was obvious neither were capable of getting an erection right now. He moved in for another kiss, this time biting at John's lower lip.

Now. John wanted Sherlock now. "Force it up," he growled into the aggressive kiss. "Use your genius mind." It was an irrational thought, he knew, but irrational was all he could manage now. His hips started a soft, slow rhythm and John was hoping that it would help him. He returned the nip to Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock snorted. Right. If he could he would. He matched the pace set by John. The friction caused by the suits felt wonderful but he still couldn't get an erection. At this rate he was certain they were going to go mad with desire. His fingers began scratching harshly again, and his tongue wiggled its way back into his husband's mouth.

If they didn't stop John was probably going to be bleeding from the amount of abuse Sherlock was putting him through. "Tonight I want you to make love to me," he whispered as he pulled away from his husband's lips. "Slow or fast or whatever. I want you." He met Sherlock's gaze. "Please."

Sherlock gave a small smile. "I would love to be able to promise you that, but I can't. I'm sorry John." He dropped the hand on his husband's back to his side and stopped squirming. "We can try though." His other hand was still in John's hair, his fingers rifling through the hair lightly.

John slowed down, managing to focus a bit and smiling down at his husband. "Try. Don't care, I want you so bad," he whispered. Christ, he sounded more desperate than he wished he would. But it was their honeymoon. Granted, they had shagged more in the past two days than they had for the past month. It was nice to have Sherlock constantly all over him, nice to see that the man still had a sex drive, but they had exhausted themselves. "Please, want to try." He swallowed hard and shifted, moving to rest with his head on his husband's chest.

Sherlock nodded, his arm coming back up to drape lazily over John's back. He continued to run his fingers through his husband's hair. This was nice too. It had been awhile since they had just laid together and snuggled. It was rather relaxing. "Love you," he said, as his eyes closed in contentment.

Here they were, on their bed in their swimming suits. John couldn't really complain, though. Resting on Sherlock...he hadn't done this in a while. He missed the warmth and protection he always felt when he was near him. "I love you, too," he muttered. He was probably going to fall asleep right here, on top of Sherlock. It would be wonderful, he figured. Always was when he was with his husband. "Do you mind if I take a little nap on top of you?" He finally asked with a yawn.

"Believe it or not, I was thinking about napping myself as well." Sherlock gave a slight smirk. "Comfortable and relaxed here with you," he admitted. They could lay like this in bed the rest of the day and he would be okay with that. He continued to run his fingers through John's hair soothingly.

"Good," John whispered at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair. He had grown it out just to please Sherlock and now it was even paying off for him. "Missed this," he said softly as his eyes finally slipped closed. It was an admission he had wanted to keep to himself but Sherlock should know that this was what he really loved about being married to him. Something he had missed in the past month. "Don't leave," he added, a bit desperately, as he finally fell asleep.

"Missed this too," Sherlock replied. His fingers began to slow and then stop moving as he gradually drifted off to sleep. "Won't leave," he muttered as an afterthought. He didn't want to anyway. Soon, his body was still except for his even breathing.

John woke up slowly, lifting his head with a groan. He had been drooling a bit on Sherlock's chest. He let his head drop back on to his husband's body as he glanced up at Sherlock's face. Asleep. And it was already dark outside. Apparently they had been more tired than they thought. Perhaps his husband wouldn't mind a small wake up call. He placed a soft kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw, sucking slightly at the skin as his hand scratched slightly at his ribs.

Sherlock groaned as he felt John moving. His eyes slowly fluttered open when his jaw was kissed. He hadn't realized he had been that tired, or maybe his body was still adjusting to the time change. "Good morning, or well evening I suppose it is." He smirked a bit at his husband and then kissed the top of John's head.

"Eight in the evening, to be specific," John said with a soft smile, pulling away from his husband's jaw slowly. "Was going to wake you up with a blow job but I need you to myself." He rested his head on Sherlock's chest with a deep breath. "I love sleeping on you. Your breathing pattern is wonderful and your heart beat is amazingly slow."

Sherlock smirked a bit and then shrugged. "Still not sure I will be able to do anything but I did say I would try." Was this one of those romantic situations that he didn't know how to react to? He gave John a small smile, unsure what should be said at a time like this.

That silence was telling, John knew his husband. Awkward. Didn't know what to do. "I love you," he said softly, turning his head to place several soft kisses on Sherlock's chest. "You are wonderful." He lifted his head, wiggling slightly, and gently met his husband's lips.

"Love you too and I know." Sherlock smirked for a bit and then returned the kiss. He wrapped his other arm around John, to help hold his husband in place and to help draw the man on top of him even closer. He let his fingers trail lightly down John's back, trying to be careful not to scratch at the marks he had made last night.

John exhaled loudly through his nose and let his tongue slide into his husband's mouth, his body stretching slightly as he tried to curl his toes into the sheet between Sherlock's legs so his husband wouldn't be doing all of the work. "Hate you," he said jokingly.

Sherlock smirked. "You are just jealous that I am so amazing and perfect at everything." He brought one of his hands from John's back up to his husband's head and began running his fingers through it. "What do you want me to make you for dinner?" Maybe later tonight he would be able to give John what his husband wanted. He was certain he wouldn't be able to right now, so he wanted to avoid trying to start something he wouldn't be able to finish.

John chuckled softly and shrugged, licking his lips. "Surprise me. Make something complicated so you don't burn it." He bit his bottom lip as he let his eyes slip closed. That would mean Sherlock was going to have to get up, leaving the comfort of the bed. He yawned and dropped his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck. "Are you hungry at all?"

Sherlock gave John a twisted smirk. "It will be so complicated you won't even know what it is." He continued to run his fingers through his husband's hair. "Not really. Probably won't eat until tomorrow or the day after." He gave a slight shrug and gently rolled John off of him so he could get up off the bed.

John rolled on to his back with a small laugh, looking up at his husband with bright blue eyes. Christ, he wanted his husband. Their lack of control was biting him right in the arse. "Just make sure it tastes good, yeah?" He smiled softly and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. If he didn't stop feeling like some horny teenager he had a feeling that their honeymoon was going to be over long before they had planned.

Sherlock got up off the bed and put on his robe. "It will taste so good, the omelet will seem like prison food." He smirked cockily. He walked out to the kitchen and tried to think of something to make. Preferably something he had seen made as a kid, because then he could just go off his memory. "John, is there anything you _don't_ like? Peppers, onions, etcetera?" He walked back into the bedroom.

John stretched on the bed and had his swimming suit half-way down his thighs when Sherlock walked back in. At any other point in their lives he would have felt embarrassed but instead he relaxed, looking up at his husband with a small smirk. "I don't like fish," he replied softly, studying Sherlock in his robe slowly. "You know, weird things."

Sherlock returned the smirk. "So picky my dear doctor." The smirk got bigger. "Like what you see? It isn't easy to achieve this level of perfection." He walked back to the kitchen and began rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator. He still wasn't entirely sure what to make yet. He began taking things out at random.

John laughed and slid off of the bed, pulling his suit off and grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms. He walked slowly into the kitchen, admiring Sherlock from behind before clearing his throat. "Stop being so perfect," he said with a small laugh. Christ, he was starving. "Literally, I don't care if I have to eat it off of you, I will eat anything right now."

Sherlock turned to face John, a smirk returning to his lips. "Well, you didn't give me much to go on food-wise so I am trying to remember dishes I have seen made. I had thought of beef stew but that takes all day to make so I am trying to think of an alternative. No thawed meat either…" He shrugged a bit and turned to examine the things he had set out.

"Just make a vegetable soup." John shrugged. It sounded delicious, they had beef broth in one of the cabinets. With just that and vegetables, he was sure it would be delicious. At this point it seemed like the only option they had. "Seems difficult enough, if you ask me." He moved to stand behind his husband, resting his head between Sherlock's shoulder blades as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

Sherlock nodded. "I'll make a salad with it. Do you want it lettuce or spinach based?" He diced up some vegetables while the he warmed the broth. Once the veggies were cut up he added them and a few other ingredients to the pot on the stove: carrots, potatoes, green beans, basil leaves, onions, celery, and just a bit of sorrel to give it a little more taste.

John pulled away from his husband with a soft smile. "Spinach," he replied softly as he sat down at the table. Watching Sherlock cook was like going to one of those dances downtown. He looked so wonderful doing it, like it was something he did all of the time. John was a bit jealous because he just looked like some gnome when he tried to do the same thing. "You look good when you cook."

Sherlock nodded again and got out some fresh spinach. He diced up some more vegetables: carrots, a variety of bell peppers, radishes, cucumbers, tomatoes and onions. To show off he did a little spin move as he turned to face John, the knife still in his hand and pointed in the air. He had a smirk on his face. "I look good no matter what I do." He did the same spin move, grabbed some shredded cheese and added it to the salad. "Salad dressing my dear doctor?"

John giggled and buried his face in his arms, looking up at his husband as a blush spread across his cheeks. "You are ridiculous," he said softly, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care. I will eat whatever." He smirked softly and studied Sherlock. "You don't look good when you do _everything_. Your face when you climax." He giggled and closed his eyes, his face pressed into his arms again.

Sherlock smirked, even though John couldn't see it. " _Me_? You are one to talk." He grabbed balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil. He topped it off with croutons. He picked up the bowl and a fork. He turned around once more, walked over to his husband and put the food on the table. "Soup will be done soon."

John's head shot up. "Oi!" He laughed loudly and eyed the salad, biting his bottom lip. "So we both look a bit unattractive when we climax," he muttered, shoving a large bite of the salad in his mouth. "I am just proud I got you to start making some sort of noise!" He took another large bite and watched his husband with a small laugh. Joking, laughing. This was perfect.

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Well, I discovered it was more exciting that way. You also seem to really like it." Once the soup was ready he poured it into a bowl. "Do you want bread or crackers?" He set the soup down in front of John. "Salad okay? Anything to drink? And don't forget to tip your waiter. Although, I'm sure you can find other means of payment if you are short on cash." His smirk returned.

John pushed the empty salad bowl away with a small laugh. "Water?" He questioned softly before taking a large spoonful of soup into his mouth. He let out a groan of happiness, looking up at his husband. "Oi, don't say shit like that when neither of us can get a hard-on," he muttered with a small grin. "I will shower you or something, yeah?" He took another spoonful of soup and made another noise.

Sherlock grinned. "You like it then?" He was clearly pleased with himself. He got a bottled water from the refrigerator. He returned back to John and placed the bottle on the table. "Should be ready by tomorrow morning, at the latest. Did you still want to try tonight? Or maybe we should slow down a bit so we aren't having this problem the whole honeymoon?" He sat down next to his husband.

"'S good," John said with a nod, opening the water and taking several large gulps. God, he wanted to shag his husband tonight. Wanted to claw at Sherlock's back and beg him to never stop. But...they still had a long time left. "We should probably wait," he said softly pushing the half-finished bowl of soup away as he let his hand fall on Sherlock's thigh. "We could...talk tonight. Do something."

Sherlock nodded in agreement and he smirked when he felt John's hand on his thigh. His husband wanted to talk? Regular, ordinary chit-chat or some sort of _serious_ talk? "What do you want to talk about or do tonight?" He honestly didn't know what couples did still and he wasn't sure if he would ever really figure it out.


	28. Chapter 28

John shrugged and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "I wanted..." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "I don't know. Marriage. Money. Should we both get a bank account under one name?" He nudged his husband's ear with his nose. Little things. The things that he thought about when he got bored. "Do you want me to get a job?"

Sherlock arched a brow and then shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I have never thought about that stuff before. I have never worried about money, to be honest. Part of the reason I don't asked to get paid by the Yard is because I don't need it. I wasn't looking for a flatmate because I couldn't afford to leave on my own," he paused to clear his throat, "I did it because I was lonely. Couldn't find anyone who would put up with me until you." He gave another shrug and continued on. "We can get an account together if you want. The Yard probably won't pay me but we can start taking payments on private cases if you want, then you can still work with me?"

Suddenly John felt like his heart was in his throat. Lonely. His husband had been lonely. He wanted some sort of companionship. And John...John had given that to him. He took several deep breaths and leaned forward to gently meet Sherlock's lips. Slow, determined. Sherlock needed to know how thankful he was for what had finally brought them together. "I love you," he whispered as he pulled away. "I don't care. I just...Amy. Our family," he said softly.

Sherlock hadn't expected John to kiss him, but it was a pleasant surprise. He returned it, matching the pace of his husband. "I love you too." He was quiet for a moment, as he studied John thoughtfully. "You don't want to work with me anymore, do you?" Maybe he was being selfish by wanting his husband to still help with the cases, but John probably would want to stay at the flat and raise little Sandi. He supposed, one of them should stay home even if that wasn't what he wanted.

John couldn't help but smile a bit, shaking his head. "I want to work with you," he corrected softly. God, did he want to work with Sherlock. He couldn't just stop running around the streets. It was the rush he felt in the war. He couldn't give that up. "Just...money. I want to make sure that we are making something to support her." He took a deep breath and shrugged. It would be a bit difficult but they had Mrs. Hudson, Nancy, Mycroft and Lestrade. They would manage to make it work. Hell, maybe even Molly would want to watch Amy. "I am going to keep working with you."

Sherlock returned the smile. "I could stop being so picky about the cases I take and start charging for private cases. We will be fine. Besides, I am pretty sure everyone we know is going to spoil her rotten anyway." The smile got bigger. "I am glad you still want to work with me," he admitted. Well, relieved was more like it.

"I could never stop working with you," John whispered with a small laugh. "It is...too amazing. Being with you, running about London like a couple of idiots." He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip. "So...same bank account. New cards, then. I won't have to yell at chip and pin machines anymore." He giggled and curled his fingers, digging his nails into Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock nodded and then smirked. "Sounds good." He grabbed John's hand and gently tugged his husband toward him so his partner could sit in his lap. Enough talk. He wanted to be close to John. He didn't want to start anything, but he couldn't get enough of being near his husband anymore. There was a time, he supposed, he would have scoffed at such a thing but now he found comfort in it.

John followed his husband's tug without an argument, settling in Sherlock's lap with a soft smile. Being close to Sherlock was something he craved now, a feeling he had really never had before about anybody. That was saying a lot, considering he was about to marry a woman fifteen or so years ago. He curled his legs around Sherlock's torso the best he could with the chair at his husband's back, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband's neck. "I love you," he whispered against Sherlock's temple.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, a hand moving to his husband's hair immediately to run his fingers through the soft bristles. "Love you too." He moved his head back slightly, so he could meet John's lips and began kissing his husband gently. He nipped on his partner's lower lip from time to time.

Kissing. In all honesty, John was fairly sure that snogging Sherlock was better than a lot of things in life. Except...shagging Sherlock. Snogging was certainly a close second, though. It was slow, gentle, and John couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He sucked at Sherlock's top lip with a small 'pop' and moved a hand to tug gently at his husband's hair.

The tug on his hair made Sherlock moan into the kiss, and he began kissing John a little more aggressively. He moved his free hand so it would scratch along his husband's side, since the back was probably still recovering from last time. He couldn't help but squirm into the body above him. Maybe they would end up shagging tonight after all.

John felt his chest swell proudly but it soon evaporated the moment he felt Sherlock's nails along his side. God, he should have put a shirt on. At this rate he was going to pin Sherlock to any available surface and demand to be shagged. He had never felt this determined to have Sherlock inside of him, slow and loud and _perfect_. He pulled his lips away from Sherlock's slowly, smiling softly before glancing between them. "If you want to shag me in the morning you better stop that," he said softly with a grin.

"You started it by tugging my hair," Sherlock muttered but ended up matching John's grin. "Well, what should we do then? We have that giant television. I suppose we should watch it at least once. You always suggest crap telly at the flat. I am sure we can find something on, although I might have to translate for you."

"I am well aware," John said smugly, tearing his gaze away from his husband to glance at the telly. "Alright." He shrugged and shifted out of Sherlock's lap. He bounded toward the couch, down the two stairs from the kitchen, as he flopped on the massive piece of furniture. "Lay on top of me," he demanded softly, spreading his legs as he grabbed the remote.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as he followed John over to the couch. He laid down on his husband immediately, snuggling into the other man. He leaned his back into John's stomach, and settled the back of his head onto his husband's shoulder. He glanced up at the screen to see what they would watch. It didn't really matter to him, since he rarely watched the telly.

John flipped through multiple channels before settling on some horribly cheesy soap opera, dropping the remote to the ground as he grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over them. "What is going on?" He asked softly, one arm moving to wrap around Sherlock so his hand could rest over his husband's heart. A woman on the screen yelled something at two younger children who scampered off in the opposite direction.

Sherlock arched a brow. "The two children are friends. The girl's mother walked in on them. The little girl wanted to see the boy's penis, to see what it looked like. Apparently the two children are actually related, half siblings so it would explain why the mother is so upset." Wow, people watched shows like this?

"You have got to be joking me," John whispered in shock. His hand scrambled desperately for the remote and he flipped up a few channels. Two men fighting, one pointed back. "Fighting over a woman?" He asked curiously, trying to get in on the little game. "The one pointing, he is...the boyfriend? The other one is...I dunno, her husband, I think." He curled his fingers over Sherlock's heart and scratched absently at the skin.

Sherlock studied the scene on the screen. "She is married to them both and they just found out about each other. But yes, they are arguing over her." The woman on the show left the room, crying. The arguing stops and the men whisper conspiratorial. "Now they are a mad at her and they are plotting to the best way to kill her without getting caught."

John giggled and placed a soft kiss into Sherlock's hair. "You act like you hate this but I know you secretly enjoy it," he whispered into his husband's unruly curls. Normal things like this, little things like laying together on a couch, was wonderful. He let his eyes slip closed and took a deep breath, yawning with a small laugh. "I don't know which show I think is more messed up."

"This one is slightly better," Sherlock admitted. "The two men have decided to hire someone so the murder can't be traced back to them." The woman walked back on screen, crying even harder. Her make-up was streaming down her face and screaming hysterically. "She overheard them and she says she is going to call the police." The woman runs off screen and the two men chase after her. "I am sure there is DVD around here, if you want to watch something else."

John feebly shook his head. Looking for a DVD would require one of them to get up. He was rather enjoying the warmth of Sherlock's body. "No, here." He grabbed the remote and placed it on Sherlock's chest lightly. "You aren't getting up," he whispered into his husband's hair, the arm around Sherlock's torso tightening slightly. There was no way he was going to let his husband go now.

Sherlock smirked a bit and snuggled further into John, as he picked up the remote. He flipped through some channels and soon they came back to the last show they were watching. The two men had just accidentally killed the woman, so she wouldn't call the police. They were in the process of trying to clean up the crime scene. "If these two don't get caught, I am throwing the remote at the telly."

John let out a loud bark of laughter and held Sherlock closer to him. "I think this show needs a consulting detective," he said with another soft giggle. "How did they do it?" He asked curiously, tilting his head. They had only been flipping through the channels on the telly for a few minutes. It must have been something rather odd. "Stray bullet? There is a lot of blood."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, blunt force trauma to the head. It explains all the blood. It would seem they each had hold of an arm, lost their grips, and she slipped into the edge of the hearth. They are going to tell the police they came over and found her like this. They will be each others alibis. Not very original…"

"All of your deducing is making me horny," John said softly. Too bad he was exhausted, needed to sleep some more, and really couldn't get a hard on. "Even if it is crap telly in Italy." He stretched slightly under his husband and yawned again. Christ, when was he ever this tired? He was a bit sick of sleeping but it was obvious he needed it.

Sherlock turned his head and twisted slightly so he could look at John. "Do you want to go to bed my dear doctor?" He wasn't tired but he would lay with his husband, either here or the bedroom. He had given up on the book his mother had given him, so he wasn't sure what he was going to do to pass the time. Probably just some thinking.

John looked down at Sherlock with a tired smile, shaking his head. "Mmm, no, I will stay here." He wrapped his other arm around Sherlock lightly. "Sorry, just really tired." He swallowed hard. With a small smirk he placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple and tightened his arms in a small hug. "Probably going to sleep through the night." Which would be wonderful. It was nine-thirty. He had only been awake from an hour and a half but the combination of delicious food and the warmth of Sherlock's body wasn't helping him stay awake.

Sherlock nodded and turned his attention back to the ridiculous program on the telly. The police had arrived and were asking the two men questions. "Why aren't they being questioned separately?" He muttered more to himself than to John. "They aren't even convincing liars. Look at how obviously guilty they look."

"Stop making the face." John whispered with a weak smirk. "It is a crap telly show. Probably didn't have the budget to separate them and do it in more than one shot," he said as his fingers continued to scratch at the skin above Sherlock's chest lightly. "They are also just horrible actors," he added as he shifted slightly on the couch and rolled his head so he was face-to-face with the back of the couch.

Sherlock huffed a bit. He felt John shift and he turned so his head was now nuzzled into his husband's back. He dropped the remote on the floor without turning the television off. Mainly because he was curious to know if the men would end up getting caught. He didn't need to watch it. The audio would be enough. He gave John a light kiss on one of the red streaks he had caused earlier today.

John relaxed slightly at the touch, giving a soft groan of contentment. That felt wonderful. He would never complain because, really, Sherlock being rough was quite the enjoyable experience, but the scratch marks were still a bit sensitive. The red marks stung a bit at any movement his body made. His eyes fluttered open for a moment but everything was blurry and he didn't have the power to keep them open. He let his eyelids fall shut again without a fight. "Love you," he murmured.

Sherlock smiled even though John couldn't see it. "Love you too. Sleep well my dear doctor." He listened to the Italian movie playing in the background. Much to his disappointment the men got away. They decided to be gay lovers and ran away together to some exotic island. By the time the local police figured it out, the men were already gone. He couldn't help but groan when he heard the announcement of the sequel to play next. He reached behind him blindly, managed to find the remote and hit the power button.

John followed through with his promise and slept until six in the morning. His eyes opened slowly and it took him a moment to register everything. The fabric shoved against his face was slightly damp but not their bed. Right, couch. There was a pleasant warmth against his back. Sherlock. He smiled and exhaled loudly, stretching and curling his toes against the top of Sherlock's feet.

Good. No nightmares. John hadn't had any since being on the honeymoon. Hopefully his husband would sleep soundly the rest of the time as well. Sherlock hadn't slept. "Hey," murmured into John's back and gave the base of his husband's neck a kiss. "So, it is a new day…" He smirked a bit, wiggling into John a bit.

John let a low rumble come from his chest as he pressed back against Sherlock. Morning sex. Probably his favorite thing. Especially while he was still half asleep. He turned slowly and met Sherlock's lips, reaching in between them slowly to palm Sherlock through his robe. He pressed the rest of his body against Sherlock's with very sleepy movements. God, he wanted to be shagged.

Sherlock smirked behind the kiss as he returned it, his tongue moving into the other man's mouth eagerly. He moaned from the touch, his body leaning into his husband's hand. He squirmed excitedly and was pleased when he began to get an erection. Good. Very good indeed. He had been wanting to shag John for awhile now and he was going to get to finally.

The moment John felt Sherlock getting hard beneath his hand he wanted to shout and celebrate, but instead he deepened the kiss and moaned. John rocked his body slightly and was relieved when he felt the stirrings of his own erection. Being patient was paying off. He pulled away from Sherlock's lips and nipped at his husband's jaw. "Lube," he whispered. They were going to shag. Period.

"Oh God yes," Sherlock replied. "Bedroom now," he urged. He disentangled himself from John and got up off the couch. In his excited haste, he stumbled over the couple stairs but managed not to fall over. As soon as he got into the bedroom, he let his robe fall to the floor. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand and plopped down on the bed.

John followed after his husband with a laugh, yanking off his pajama bottoms and crawling onto the bed. He wrapped a hand around Sherlock's neck and pulled him down eagerly. "God, Sherlock, want you inside of me," he whispered into his husband's ear. "Want to feel you," he begged.

Sherlock smirked. "Good, because that is exactly what you are going to get." He pulled off the swim suit he was still wearing and crawled up John, until he was straddling his husband's hips. His body shivered with anticipation. He added lube to his hand and prepped John first, taking a few moments to tease his husband before prepping himself. He dropped the lube somewhere next to John and wasted no time entering his husband with a moan. He brought his head down, so he could suck on the neck of the man below him.

John was a writhing mess against the sheets and didn't stop moving until he felt Sherlock inside of him. He let out a low moan, lifting his legs to wrap around Sherlock's back. "Yes." He slammed his eyes shut and let his head fall back on to the pillow, exposing his neck to his husband. Both of his hands dug into Sherlock's back as he moved against Sherlock slightly. "God, Sherlock," he shouted.

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he would last, considering the amount of use his dick had taken lately. He decided on a slow but steady pace, to hopefully make things last a bit longer. He moaned into John's neck, with each thrust. Eventually he worked his way up to his husband's ear, where he began licking and sucking gently. A hand held onto the headboard for support and the other tangled into the sheets below.

Each moan from Sherlock made John flush a deeper read, his breath coming out in hot, shallow pants. "Yes," he whispered, turning his head to meet his husband's lips sloppily. The rhythm was perfect and the fact that Sherlock was almost constantly vocal now, led to John being a bit louder than he was used to. He let out a loud shout and clawed at Sherlock's back without a second thought. "Don't stop."

Sherlock returned the kiss, and he managed not to make it aggressive. He knew if that happened, he would never be able to keep up the pace he had set. He continued to move in and out John, moaning into his husband's mouth. The grip on the headboard and sheets got tighter.

John nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip with a soft moan. "You feel wonderful," he managed to say, his legs tightening around his husband's body. "Oh, Sherlock." He yanked his husband's head down and took Sherlock's earlobe into his mouth, biting down on it gently. "Jesus." He lifted his hips roughly to meet Sherlock's.

Sherlock smirked, quite pleased with himself. Feeling John's mouth on his ear made him growl in excitement. The rough buck from his husband had him forgetting all about slow and steady rather easily and quickly. He began to thrust harder and faster, his breathing becoming uneven from the sudden exertion of energy.

"Yes, like that," John moaned into Sherlock's ear, running his hands down his husband's side roughly. There were times that were perfectly suitable for a slow, whispering sweet nothings, but right now John wanted Sherlock as rough as he could, fast and hard. It had been a bit too long. Well, a day. But during their honeymoon, after a month of nothing, John _needed_ this. "Love you," he whispered, nipping at Sherlock's ear with a soft moan.

"John," Sherlock breathed out when he felt fingers going down his sides. He continued increasing the roughness of each thrust. With all the attention John was giving him, he was completely lost in a haze of arousal. It felt wonderful and only encouraged him to go faster, until finally he came with a loud moan. He collapsed slightly to one side of his husband. "Love you too," he panted out a little belatedly.

John grinned lazily, reaching down to grab his erection as Sherlock fell to his side. He turned his head to meet his husband's lips as he started a fast, tight rhythm with his hand, moaning into Sherlock's mouth at his own touch. After several more strokes he came across his stomach, shouting against Sherlock's lips and collapsing against the mattress with a breathless whimper. God, that had been wonderful.

"Sorry," Sherlock murmured when John finished himself off. He was going to but his husband had beat him to it. His breathing had finally subsided into a semi normal pattern. "Why good morning my dear doctor." He laid next to John, with a smirk. His head came to rest on his husband's shoulder.

John grinned like an idiot down at his husband. "Good morning," he said softly as he yanked at a bit of the sheet at his side and ran it across his stomach to clean himself up. "I could wake up like that every morning," he whispered with a small chuckle. He studied his husband and ran a hand through his husband's hair. Perfect. Today was literally perfect. If it started like that then nothing else could really go wrong.

"Well, we can do that every morning if you want. So, long as we don't shag each other senseless during the rest of the day." Sherlock smirked up at John. "Anything you want to do today? Maybe you will actually get around to teaching me how to swim." He smirked again, snuggling a little closer to his husband's shoulder.

John glanced at his husband and took a deep breath. "I have always wanted to wake up to somebody already giving me a blow job," he admitted softly. It had been quite the fantasy of his and...shit, had he just said that out loud to Sherlock? His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, spreading down to his chest. "Swimming," he squeaked out nervously. "W-We can teach you how to swim."

Sherlock tilted his head up and looked at John with an arched eyebrow. "I will see if I can arrange that. Not for awhile though. I'll get you when you least expect." He smirked at his husband. "Swimming would be good. I need to be perfect at that too, just like everything else." His smirk got bigger.

"No. No, it is fine," John said, turning a deeper red. He didn't think it was possible but he wanted to crawl in a hole and hide away for a few hours. "God, this is embarrassing. Let's just go swimming," he muttered with a small frown. Swimming. Focus on something else. "Yesterday you looked like a drowning fish, Sherlock. Trust me."

"Oh it will happen, I just won't tell you about it." Sherlock sat up on the bed and took a moment to locate his suit. "I didn't do that bad..." He muttered with a puckering pout. He got off the bed and slid the swim suit back on. Since they hadn't gone swimming yesterday like planned, the lotion and the towel were already together and he scooped those up on his way out of the bedroom.


	29. Chapter 29

John dropped the subject instantly, watching his husband with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. He stood slowly and looked around the room before finding his suit, slipping it on and jogging after his husband. "I had to keep holding you up," he said to Sherlock as he jogged past him in the sand and jumped into the water with a shout. He stayed under the surface for a long moment before popping up with a gasp, looking up at his husband with a large grin.

Sherlock didn't feel like running, having had spent a lot of energy this morning while shagging John. He dropped his towel on the beach, far enough up so the tide wouldn't get to it. He began putting lotion on the spots he could reach. "You just like to show off," he remarked to John as his husband finally resurfaced. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

"Only for you, baby," John shouted back with a wink, walking out of the water with a large grin. The water was a decent temperature compared to the warm air and it felt perfect. "Here." He grabbed the lotion and spread it across his husband's back with a smile before motioning toward the water. "Second day is the charm."

The smirk on his face got bigger and he shook his head slightly. Sherlock relaxed into John's touch instantly. "I will be so good, that soon I will also be a Sea God." He was determined to get good at swimming. For some reason it had turned out more complicated than he thought, or was it just one of those simple, normal things he just couldn't grasp? Like the burnt toast.

"Aquaman?" John said with a small laugh, pressing a kiss against Sherlock's ear. He moved slowly toward the water with a slow sway of his hips just for his husband. The moment he reached the tide, he turned around and studied Sherlock. "What should your reward be if you learn to swim today?" He asked as he squinted against the sun.

"What the hell kind name is Aquaman?" Sherlock frowned in thought. Was he missing something here? He glanced over to John, when his husband spoke again. "I can think of a lot of ways to reward me." He smirked as he made his way out to the water. "It's cold," he complained but kept walking until he was about waist deep in the sea.

"Comic books?" John followed after Sherlock with a raised brow. "Never mind." He grabbed Sherlock's arse and gave him a small push forward. "Down," he said softly, squeezing the skin beneath his hand. "We will do what we did yesterday. If you can manage to not look like a drowning fish, you can have a reward of your choice."

Comic books? "I prefer nonfiction," Sherlock muttered. He laid chest first in the water, trying not to look like a 'drowning fish'. Whatever _that_ meant. He wasn't entirely sure but he did try to remember what John had taught him the first time. Kick the feet. Move the arms. Not at the same time. Come _on_. He could do _this_.

John watched with an amused grin, his hand resting against Sherlock's stomach. It looked...a little better. Sort of. "Here." He pushed up on Sherlock's torso and moved into the water. "Watch. It is a whole body movement." He made sure Sherlock was watching and did several strokes before turning and coming back. "You should feel a tug in your stomach, sides and chest," he said softly, pushing Sherlock back down.

Sherlock stood back up and watched John swimming carefully. He made sure to memorize every stroke and the timing of each limb. Visual learning always worked out best for him. Or just trial and error, which was why he did so many experiments. For a moment he had forgotten he was supposed to be mimicking his husband's movements. Eventually he laid back down on the water, determined to replicate John's pattern perfectly.

John watched his husband with a soft smile and nodded. There it was. He just watched and learned. His husband was perfect. "That's...good. Great." He smiled proudly. He had taught his husband how to swim. Well, swim in place. "So, milestone. What reward would you like? Then we will see if you can swim on your own."

Sherlock smirked cockily and stood up again. "Of course it was." He leaned over and put his lips on John's. "This seems adequate to me," he murmured behind the kiss, as he wrapped an arm his around his husband to pull him a little closer. He ran his tongue along John's bottom lip before entering the other mouth.

John pressed against his husband with a small gasp into his mouth, letting Sherlock control this kiss. He deserved it, of course. Managing to _not_ look like a drowning fish was, honestly, quite the accomplishment. He shifted to nip lightly at Sherlock's bottom lip before moving a hand inside of Sherlock's suit, grabbing his arse with a small grin.

Sherlock moved his lips to John's ear and whispered. "Careful my dear doctor or swimming lessons might get interrupted again." He ran his tongue along the bottom lobe lightly before pulling away with a smirk. He ran a hand down his husband's chest, letting it trail faintly over the mid section of John's suit. His smirk got bigger as he laid back down in the water.

John watched his husband's hand with heavy breaths before he moved back into the water. Of course. "Fucking tease," he whispered, not helping that he was grinning like an idiot. "Right, so you can do it with my support. Don't...go into deeper water, swim parallel to the shore, yeah?" He plopped into the water beside his husband, pressing his face underwater and starting to swim slowly.

"You like it." Sherlock smirked and then took a moment to study John swimming, before paddling after his husband. He mirrored the movements he had memorized easily, the strokes constantly replaying in his head. As far as he could tell, he was doing fine. Swimming wasn't hard once he got the strokes down.

John resurfaced and twisted to watch his husband. Perfect. Literally, he was swimming like he had done it his entire life. "Bloody genius," he muttered, standing up and splashing at his husband with a laugh. "I hate you," he said with another laugh, flopping beside his husband and pushing him gently with his foot.

Sherlock stopped swimming when John came up next to him, opting to float on his back. "I can't help it if I am naturally good at everything. It is hard you know, being this amazing and perfect." He closed one eye against the glint of the sun, turning his head to smirk at his husband. He kicked his feet to stay afloat, his hands resting behind his head.

"Oi, hush up." John shifted and pushed his foot against Sherlock's ribs, rolling his eyes with a smirk. "I hope you get sunburned, you git," he whispered as he disappeared under the water and swam toward the deeper water. It was cool, refreshing, and he couldn't help himself. He resurfaced a few feet away from Sherlock with a small gasp of air, looking around. He swam slowly toward his husband, making sure he was splashing as big as he could.

Sherlock was content to just lay in the water like he was, his other eye closing. He could hear John coming and repositioned himself so his feet were toward his husband. When John was within range he began kicking his feet as hard as he could to splash the water into his husband's face. He smirked even though the other man couldn't see it.

"No!" John laughed and jumped under the water, grabbing Sherlock's legs with a shout. "Don't even think about it!" He shouted, crawling up Sherlock's body and pinning him to the sand beneath, pushing them up so he wouldn't drown his husband. "Clot," he whispered, grabbing one of Sherlock's hand with a proud smirk.

Sherlock pulled John close to him and snuggled into his husband once they were on the beach. This was comfortable, but he was still feeling devious. After a moment of trying to lull John into a false sense of security, he flipped them over so he could be on top of his husband. He was sitting on John's chest, hands pinning both wrists to the sand. "Now what?" He smirked down at his husband.

John grunted and looked up at his husband with a playful glare. "I was a soldier, Sherlock," he warned his partner with a small smirk. It wouldn't take much, really, to wiggle and twist and get Sherlock onto his back. Might as well let Sherlock think he was in control. Shouldn't be too hard. "Now I let you think you've won. What else could I possibly do?" He said calmly, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock leaned down to kiss his John, sliding down his husband so his lower torso was now writhing into his husband's. He released the wrists, a hand coming to run through John's hair and the other scratched on the chest below him. He made the kiss a little more aggressive with a small growl. He hadn't planned on this but it was the only way he could think of to distract John.

John moaned softly, opening his mouth to his husband without a second thought. They had just shagged but, honestly, any touch from his husband was enough to send him over the edge. His mind was clouded and he arched into the scratches, his hands sliding under Sherlock's suit to grab his arse. What...had they been doing again? His eyebrows knitted together as he matched Sherlock's clear enthusiasm.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss, the hand scratching John's chest moved down to his husband's suit, finger slipping under the band to run teasingly on the skin. He continued to squirm into the body below him, enjoying the friction the suits were causing. He moved his lips from John's to his husband's neck where he began sucking and biting it. Weren't they supposed to be slowing things down? Oh sod it, this was feeling wonderful.

John gasped, arching into Sherlock's touch in his sensitive skin. "Fuck," he whispered. Christ, he honestly was like some teenager when Sherlock was like this with him. Not that he would ever openly admit that. His husband was excited but...he couldn't really get an erection right now. Not that he wasn't enjoying this. It was wonderful. He lifted his hips slightly, grinning when he felt Sherlock's body lift slightly.

Sherlock didn't care if he couldn't get hard right now. This was still feeling good and really he didn't have any inclination to stop it. He moved his lips back to John's, kissing his husband a little sloppily. He pressed into his husband some more, his body still writhing into the man below him anxiously. He scratched his fingers through John's scalp, his other hand moving to scratch along his husband's chest once more.

John returned the kiss with a small moan, his tongue darting into Sherlock's mouth for a quick moment before he pulled away, tilting his head to suck on his husband's neck. "Good," he whispered, gasping as some water washed up around them from a rather large wave. "God, love you," he whimpered into his husband's ear. One of Sherlock's movements shoved him up in the sand a little bit and he gripped, clawing at Sherlock's back.

Sherlock smirked, his head tilting up automatically to allow John more access. He barely noticed the water lapping at them although it did cause his body to shiver involuntarily. He continued to scratch and squirm into the man below him relentlessly. "Love you too," he finally replied. Even if they couldn't get off, he was still thoroughly enjoying this moment.

"Ah, shit," John hissed, ripping away from Sherlock's neck to whimper. His nails had gone directly over another scratch and he felt the blood. "Shit, ouch." He looked up at Sherlock sheepishly, gasping for breath as his hair stood in every direction. "Are you all right?" He whispered, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "S-Sorry, didn't mean to…" He took a deep breath and glanced between them.

Apparently that moment was meant to be short lived and Sherlock stopped doing everything. He rolled off John and finally realized he was cold. "Sorry, thought I was scratching where I hadn't already." He sighed and stood up, brushing himself off reflexively. He offered to help his husband. "Come on, let's get inside. I could use a cup of tea."

John glanced up at his husband sheepishly, grabbing his hand as he was pulled to his feet. "Sorry," he muttered, running his hand across the new scratch to wipe away some of the blood. "I'll make you tea." He squeezed Sherlock's hand as a blush spread across his cheeks. "Sorry," he repeated. Of course something would happen and he would mess up.

"John, it is fine. Quit apologizing." Sherlock smirked, mischief in his eyes. "It really shows off your submissive side." He walked a little ways up to where his towel was and dried off before wrapping it around him for some warmth. He moved back over to his husband, grabbing the other man's hand once more and led them up to the beach house.

John dropped his head instantly. "'M not the submissive," he muttered. Except in this relationship he was. He always was. When they entered the house a small shiver ran through him and he grabbed Sherlock's towel, pressing it against his stomach to clean up more of the blood. "Go make your own tea, oh dominant one."

Sherlock frowned at John. Had he just upset his husband? He sighed and walked to the bedroom first to get his robe. He wrapped it around himself as he walked back into the kitchen. He didn't want to risk a fight with John, so he began making the tea in silence. Except, not talking seemed to make things worse more often than not. He was certain, he would never figure out relationships.

John tossed the towel on the floor and changed into a pair of boxers and some pajama bottoms. After several moments of trying, and failing, to get his hair to lay flat, he walked into the kitchen. He hadn't been upset. Perhaps...annoyed with the fact that Sherlock always shoved it in his face. He moved to stand behind his husband, burying his face in Sherlock's back. "Sorry."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in confusion. Why was John sorry? Hadn't he been the one to make his husband upset? Surely he would never understand the workings of a relationship as frustrating as he found that. "Uh…it is fine…" He ventured tentatively, not really sure what was going on right now. Usually understanding and figuring others out was easy for him but at this moment the entire situation eluded him.

Right. Sherlock was a bit socially inept. John giggled softly and moved to stand between his husband and the counter. "For what I said," he said softly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. "It was rude. I shouldn't be saying that to my husband. I love you." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips.

Had John been rude? Sherlock went through the brief conversations since entering the house. Was it because his husband had told him to make his own tea? It was the only thing that even remotely made sense. "I know. I love you too." When the water was ready he poured a cup. "Did you want a cup too? Maybe breakfast?"

Food didn't sound appealing but he nodded toward the kettle. "Tea would be great," he muttered, pulling away from Sherlock slowly. "Any particular thing you wanted to do today?" He asked softly. "I...wouldn't mind calling your brother and Lestrade. Saying hi to Amy," he added softly.

Sherlock poured a cup for John and added sugar to it, before offering the cup to his husband. "We can do that, if you want. I didn't bring my mobile, but I know you did." He picked up his own cup and began sipping the hot contents slowly. He leaned with his back against the counter so he could face John.

John took the cup and brought it to his lips, studying his husband as he took a sip. Sherlock's words made him tense slightly and his first instinct was to ask what he had meant. Of course John brought his mobile, what was his husband getting at? He tensed at his own thoughts and moved so he was sitting on the counter, reaching his legs out to pull Sherlock to him. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist and pressed their foreheads together. No fighting. "I love you," he said as he sat back, yanked at Sherlock with his legs, and took another sip from his mug.

Sherlock watched John, studying him, with a frown. Had he said something wrong again? He was surprised when his husband pulled him forward. "I love you too." With their heads pressed together he gave John's nose a quick kiss. He placed his mug down on the counter behind his husband. His arms wrapped around John's waist, drawing him closer to the other man still.

The most wonderful feeling in the world had to be when Sherlock had his arms around him, had him pulled close. John could forget the little comment that had suddenly made his blood boil. This was his husband. He set his own mug down and lightly wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck. He curled his toes into Sherlock's back with a soft smile. "What were you like in at Uni?" He asked softly, raising a curious brow in his husband's direction.

Sherlock found it puzzling that John could go from being tensed to relaxed in seemingly no time at all. Or maybe his husband was just trying to change the subject. He wasn't entirely sure. He shrugged at the question. "I don't know. About the same when you first met me, I suppose. Why?"

"Because I find myself wanting to know everything about you," John whispered with a small blush as one hand bent to play with the hair at the nape of Sherlock's neck. "What were you like in school? Before Uni? You know, any clubs? Sports?" He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips. There, that was a good distraction.

Sherlock shook his head. "No on both counts. I only passed school because it was expected of me. It was very boring for me and honestly didn't learn anything I didn't know already. Dad wanted me to skip grades and graduate early but Mum wanted me to be _normal_." He shrugged and muttered, "look how well that turned out..." He sighed and pulled away from John, grabbing his cup of tea. He didn't drink it, but instead stared into the mug with a pout.

No. Pulling away was not what John wanted. He reached forward and grabbed the mug from his husband's hands. His legs pulled Sherlock forward again and he gave his husband a soft kiss. "You are perfect," he whispered against Sherlock's lips. "I would have loved to see you in school. In your private school uniform." He grinned.

"I hated school," Sherlock grumbled miserably. Really he hated the whole process of growing up. Usually he found comfort from being close to his husband but right now he just wanted to be alone. "John, stop it." He pulled away again, certain a fight was going to start any second. He was feeling rather stressed. Maybe a cigarette would help. Except, he didn't have any.

John narrowed his eyes and studied his husband. "Fine." He slid off the counter and gave a sharp laugh. "I was just trying to help. Fine." He looked around the kitchen before heading toward the front door and slamming it shut. Without a second thought he headed toward the beach, plopping down outside right where the tide was coming in. Well, this was wonderful.

Well, that could have gone better. Sherlock had been trying to work on the whole communication thing and he was struggling with it. Obviously it had blown up in his face. He decided to take a hot shower, cleaned up quickly, and then let the water just beat down on his tense muscles for a long while. He didn't have anything else planned and the spray felt good.

John stayed outside for a long time, standing up when he felt a sheen of sweat over his skin. Too hot. Probably not a good idea since he was already upset. He moved into the small beach house and shot a glare toward the bathroom. Showering? He had just pushed John away and he was _showering_? "Fucking git," he muttered as he flopped on to their bed. He spread himself out on the massive mattress, laying on his stomach as he tried to cool off. So much for not fighting.

Sherlock didn't know how long he stayed in the shower, but by the time he got out his fingers and toes were wrinkled. He got out, dried off and dropped the towel to the ground as he walked into the bedroom. Oh. He hadn't expected John to be in here. "You are still made at me," he observed quietly. He didn't know what else to say, so he began getting dressed in silence. Maybe if he wore the outfit his husband picked out for him, it would help smooth things over.

John rolled his eyes and shoved his face farther into the nearest pillow. "Yeah," he stated simply. "Good deduction." He slammed his eyes shut. He didn't care if he was acting like a child. Sherlock had pushed him away, had treated him like nothing more than a nuisance, when he'd just been curious. Probably should have expected that, really. "You know, I was just trying to start conversa-" He rolled over, sat up, and froze. That was the outfit that he had picked out.

Sherlock was about to reply when he noticed John's look. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, it was difficult to tell right now. He was quiet awhile longer, trying to gather his thoughts. "I know you were just trying to make conversation John. My childhood was…difficult…it isn't something I really like talking about. You asked so I told you…I was trying to work on communication." He sighed and sat down on the bed.

"You told me and then pulled away from me trying to comfort you," John replied softly, shifting to sit closer to his husband. "I am just so curious about you. I can't help it." He shrugged. Maybe he should have just accepted the fact that he would never know about Sherlock's past. That both of them would be content to know little to nothing about the other's past before they met. "I think we are doomed to a life of horrid communication and fights," he half-joked.

"I know…I didn't have any comfort then…it was strange to have it now…" Sherlock trailed off with a shrug. He frowned at the last thing John said. He had been trying, in his own way maybe but it seemed him trying turned out worse than not attempting at all. He was unsure what to say or do now, so he reached out a hand slowly to take his husband's.

The moment he felt Sherlock's hand he squeezed it. Change the subject. "You look really good in those jeans," he whispered with a lop-sided smile. He leaned forward and gently met his husband's lips, sucking at his lower lip. "I love you, you insufferable git," he whispered against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock gave a faint smile, but it got bigger when he felt John's lips on his. He returned it, leaning into his husband. He put his arms around John. "I love you too." He leaned into his husband, suddenly desiring close contact despite the fact just moments ago he had pushed John away.

John fell to his back, bringing Sherlock with him as he laughed. "Oh, gosh," he said with a playful groan. "So heavy. You are going to crush me!" He rolled slightly so they were both on their sides and he couldn't help the large grin that showed his teeth. "Sherlock," he said softly, placing a soft kiss on his husband's nose. What now? He couldn't shag his husband but being close was nice. Except in those jeans. He wanted to rip them off of Sherlock and ravish his husband.

"Just want to hold onto you," Sherlock admitted. He snuggled into John some more, tightening the hug a bit. He leaned his forehead into his husband's shoulder. He nipped lightly into John's skin, nibbling on spot for a moment before moving onto another place. He pressed his body into his partner's. He just wanted their bodies to be as close together as possible.

John relaxed into Sherlock's arms, letting his husband do what he wanted as he let out soft sighs at each little nibble. He would never stop Sherlock from just being close, from loving him like this. Sure, their communications skills weren't exactly perfect but they knew how to act like a married couple. Sherlock constantly wanted to be close to him. He was alright with that. "Just want to be held by you," he replied softly.


	30. Chapter 30

Sherlock smiled into John's shoulder. He stopped nibbling but kept his head in place. He stayed close to his husband for awhile, not wanting to let go. "Want to stay here with you all day." He could too. It didn't matter if it wasn't something exciting anymore. Of course he still enjoyed all the thrilling things, but right now he just wanted to spend time with John. That was what the honeymoon was for, right?

All day. John couldn't help but grin at his husband's words. "Okay." He nodded. He would stay here all day with Sherlock. No fighting or yelling or angry stares. Just Sherlock and their bed. "Stay with me all day." He tilted his head and placed a soft kiss into Sherlock's hair.

"Well, we might have to get up eventually." Sherlock smirked and tilted his head up so he could see John's face. He placed a kiss on his husband's chin, before burying his face back into John's chest. He tightened the grip on his husband once more, so their bodies could be together closer still. He even went so far as to tangle their legs together.

"Not until tomorrow," John whispered softly, helping tangle his legs with his husband's. "Would rather lay with you than eat." He lifted a hand, tracing Sherlock's mouth with his thumb. "I love your lips," he said softly, parting them momentarily. "You are so expressive with your mouth. Smirking and smiling. Sometimes you pull your bottom lip between your teeth," he explained with a smile.

Sherlock nibbled on John's thumb for bit, sucking on the tip for a bit before releasing it. "Love you too," he said between small bites. He tilted his head back up to smirk at John. He was getting warm with his clothes on and sharing such close proximity to John, but he didn't move to undress. All day, he told his husband. He was going to stick to it.

John moved his hand up slightly, running his thumb over Sherlock's eye. "I love your eyes," he muttered. "They are beautiful and sometimes I feel like you can see right through me with them." He tilted his head down and placed a soft kiss on his husband's eyebrow. "And I can always see how you are doing through your eyes." His free hand ran down Sherlock's side gently.

Sherlock blinked a bit reflexively. He supposed this one of those romantic moments but he didn't know how to reply, so he buried his head into John's chest some more. Their bodies were pretty well tangled at this point, the intertwined closeness was nice. Why hadn't they done this before? His eyes closed, not to sleep but from contentment.

John couldn't help but smile. His husband obviously didn't know what to say but he wanted to keep going. He wanted Sherlock to know about every little thing. "You have a mole on the right side of your neck, just below your jaw," he whispered into Sherlock's hair. "And it moves when you swallow." He lifted his hand to ghost over it. "That is my favorite thing to suck on when I want to mark you."

"I do?" Sherlock had never really noticed. Although he had never inspected his body all that thoroughly to begin with. He brought a hand to his neck without thinking about it. It dropped back down onto the bed, finding John's with ease even though he wasn't looking. "This is nice," he admitted. He never would considered himself one for snuggling before John. Hell, he wouldn't have thought himself capable of half the things he had done before about two years ago.

John hummed in agreement, letting his eyes slip closed. This was more than nice. It was perfect. Sherlock wasn't really the touchy type but John was a sucker for cuddling. Any moment he got to be close to his husband like this was wonderful. Now he got it for a whole day. "Wish we could do this every day," he whispered softly, a hand moving to run gently up and down Sherlock's spine.

Every day? Given his usually constant on the go life style, Sherlock knew he would never be able to give that to John. "We can do it in between cases and of course anytime during the honeymoon." He tilted his head to look up at John, to see what his husband thought of the idea.

Well, it wasn't every day but it would work. John tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. "I can handle that. When we can...I want to fall asleep like this," he said with a small nod. "Except, I wouldn't mind being curled up next to you every once and a while," he admitted with a small blush. He had never really asserted anything with Sherlock and he felt a small blush spread across his cheeks.

"Okay," Sherlock agreed. "Do you want curl into me now my dear doctor?" He reached up his free hand to comb through John's hair. It was the perfect length for him to curl a few strands around his fingers. It reminded him of the first time he had done that. When John had been shot and hospitalized. Would they be here now if that hadn't happened? He supposed that was impossible to know for sure.

John smiled and looked at his husband. "I am good right now," he whispered as he yawned. He wasn't tired at all but the relaxing mood that he had been put in was making him relax more than he was used to. He pressed his head slightly into Sherlock's touch. "I was thinking of getting my hair cut," he said with a slight grin. "But I think you enjoy it a bit longer." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

"I do like it longer," Sherlock admitted. He twisted slightly, so he could reach more of John's head. His head now rested on his husband's shoulder and he turned so he could give it light kisses along the clavicle. He turned his foot so it could run along John's. As much as he was enjoying the tranquility of it all, he needed to do something to keep his constant running mind occupied.

John sighed softly and started to massage the muscle near Sherlock's spine. The light touches were more than welcome. His husband didn't know it but he had this relationship concept down. Kisses, touches, the little whispered conversations. They were everything that happened in normal relationships and things that he loved. "I love you," he muttered as he relaxed against the mattress, massaging small circles up and down his husband's back.

Sherlock practically melted into John's touch. How was it that he wanted to nap, even though he wasn't tired? This was all just too relaxing. It was perfect. "Love you too," he murmured into his husband's shoulder. He shifted slightly again, so he could continue the kisses along John's neck and over to the other shoulder blade.

"Mmm, like that," John whispered, moving his free leg to run his foot across his husband's calf. He shifted to help Sherlock, rolling on to his back. They couldn't move now. Ever. John was going to keep his husband in this bed for the rest of their lives. He took a shallow breath and reached around Sherlock to pull the gray shirt over his head. "You are flushed. Must be hot," he muttered as he yanked the shirt over Sherlock's head.

"Didn't want to move, promised you all day." Sherlock straddled John, glad that his body had a little breathing room with his shirt being off. He leaned forward once more, kissing down his husband's chest. He pressed his lower body into John's, not in a sexual manner but just because he wanted to be closer to his husband like they had been when they had been entangled.

"We are still in bed," John replied with a small laugh, letting one hand tangle in Sherlock's hair. He tensed when his husband got close to one of his scars, pushing gently at Sherlock's head to steer him away. There were three of them and they all looked horrendous. The two on his shoulder and the third on his right side. Sometimes he wondered how Sherlock loved him with so many ugly scars on his body.

Sherlock smirked a bit. He stopped kissing John's chest, the smirk twitching into a small frown. His husband always kissed his scars, yet his partner never let him do the same. He thought about asking why but he was worried that would ruin the moment. He instead moved his lips back to John's shoulder, moved up the neck and then up to his husband's forehead.

John let out a small sigh of relief before turning his head to sloppily meet Sherlock's lips. He couldn't help himself, he had been so close. "I love you," he whispered with a lop-sided smile. It took him a moment but he finally managed to let his eyes close, his body relaxing completely. "Can we stay here for the rest of our lives? Right here in this bed?"

Sherlock smiled. "Love you too." He came to rest on one side of John, so as not to crush his husband with his full body weight. He snuggled into John's shoulder, pressing their bodies together tightly like before. "If we did, we would miss out on little Sandi growing up," he reminded lightly.

Right, Amy. In their wonderful get away John had trouble remembering that they had a family waiting for them. That made him feel horrible, too. He had forgotten about his daughter in his selfishness to stay with Sherlock. "I want Amy to grow up and be as smart as you," he admitted into Sherlock's unruly hair. "I want her to be as wonderful as you are."

"Well, I can try to teach her things that she wouldn't learn in school." Sherlock couldn't guarantee little Sandi would understand everything he told her, but he kept that part to himself. He draped an arm over John's stomach, his fingers trailing along up and down John's skin lightly. His other hand continued to run through his husband's hair.

"Who am I kidding," John whispered, the arm around Sherlock tightening softly. "I am an idiot. If we are lucky she will get some of Sarah's smarts," he muttered with a small laugh as he locked his gaze on the ceiling. They were both doctors, and with Sherlock acting as one of her parents, maybe they would get lucky. "She is lucky to have you," he finally said, smiling. "You are going to be such a wonderful father." His hand started to draw shapes lightly on the middle of his husband's back.

"Luckier to have you," Sherlock replied. He still wasn't sure if he was going to be good at being a father but everyone else seemed to think he would do fine. This was one of the few times he doubted his ability to do things. It was a strange feeling and he didn't like it. He was used to being confident and sure of himself.

"Both of us. She is lucky to have both of us," John whispered softly. He looked down at his husband and smiled warmly. Every person he knew was lucky to have Sherlock in their life. The man was brilliant and wonderful. He didn't see it but John always would. "I love you," he spoke softly, tilting Sherlock's head up slightly so he could meet his husband's lips.

"Love you too." Sherlock returned the kiss and rolled to be back on top of John. He leaned down to deepen it. He trailed his hand up and down his husband's chest, his body pressing tightly into the man below him. He moved his hand from John's head, to run along his husband's face. He broke the kiss, but kept their faces close together so that they were nose to nose.

John returned the kiss, his hands resting on Sherlock's shoulder blades as he finally pulled away. He kept his eyes locked on Sherlock's as he took a few deep breaths. Being this close to Sherlock, being this _intimate_ with him was wonderful. Just laying here, nose to nose, was something John thought would never happen. One of his hands moved to rest on Sherlock's cheek, his thumb tracing his husband's cheekbone slowly. A small smile tugged at his lips. "I get to spend the rest of my life with you," he said softly.

Sherlock smiled back and then turned his head to suck on John's thumb. He nibbled on the tip lightly. After awhile he released the thumb, his eyes closing. He remained face to face, his breathing slowing down a little more. "Going to nap," he murmured into his husband's cheek. His body relaxed into John's, his stroking fingers slowly stilling.

"Okay," John replied even though his husband was already asleep. He let himself relax the best he could, letting his eyes slip closed. It was a bit hard to get comfortable with Sherlock's body on top of his own, all bones and sharp edges, but he finally managed to focus on the warm weight instead. After that it didn't take long and he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing but how happy he was with his husband.

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he slept, but judging by the sun out the window it was sometime in the middle of the afternoon. He hadn't meant to fall asleep directly on John like that and he rolled to the side to give his husband a little more breathing room. "Sorry," he said into John's shoulder as he snuggled into the man next to him.

The change in pressure on top of his body made John open his eyes slowly. "'S fine," he muttered, letting his eyes close again. "Fine," he repeated softly. Awake. Sherlock was awake. John couldn't fall back asleep. "Enjoy your nap?" He asked softly, letting his head roll so he could speak into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock lifted his head to look up at John with a smile. "Yes. Like being next to you when I sleep," he admitted. He resituated his head against his husband's shoulder, pressing his chest into John's side and entangled their legs together once more. He moved his foot along his husband's calf lightly.

John smiled, chuckling slightly. "You don't sleep much so I am taking that as the biggest compliment of our marriage," he stated with a small nod. A small shiver shot up his body at the touch of Sherlock's foot and he shifted slightly with embarrassment. "Oi," he whispered, looking down at his husband with a mock glare. "That tickles."

"Why my dear doctor, are you ticklish?" Sherlock lifted his head to smirk up at John. He continued to run his foot along his husband's calf slowly and purposefully now. The smirk got bigger, clearly amused. He brought up a hand to run along the side, fingers trailing along the skin ever so lightly.

"Yes," John gasped out as a laugh escaped his lips and didn't stop. He pushed gently at Sherlock's hand, laughing loudly now. He squirmed desperately in his husband's arms, his face slowly turning red as his laughter got louder. "No," he gasped, looking down at Sherlock with bright eyes and a wide smile. "Tickles, stop." He laughed again.

Sherlock had never tickled anyone before and even though John was asking him to stop, he continued to keep doing it. He brought his other hand to his husband's other side, his fingers trailing along that skin as well. "What if I don't stop, hm? What will you do about it? Try and stop me." He smirked some more.

John continued to laugh and squirm, letting out small shouts on occasion as he tried to pull away. It had been years since anybody had tickled him and he smiled through the laughter and gasps of air. "Going to-" He stopped to shout slightly, looking at Sherlock. "Going to lick you," he finished lamely, too focused on laughing to try and come up with a real threat.

Sherlock didn't stop the tickling, fingers trailing along John's side and his foot continued to run along his husband's calf. "Lick me? That doesn't seem like much of a threat to me. I might end up licking, or rather liking that." His smirk returned as he lifted his head and ran his tongue along John's neck slowly.

John gasped at the feel of Sherlock's tongue on his neck, his laughter softening a bit as his body squirmed into Sherlock's. "God," he muttered softly, laughing slightly. "Don't stop that," he added as he looked between them and couldn't help the small moan that escaped his lips. One hand moved to clutch at Sherlock's side tightly.

Sherlock stopped tickling John's sides finally but continued to lick his husband's neck. His tongue ran up to his partner's ear where he began to suck on it lightly. He rolled back on top of John, his lower body writhing into his husband's with excitement. He wanted the man below him suddenly but he wasn't sure if he would be able to do anything about it.

John let out a sound of agreement, lifting his hips up slightly. Another sound escaped his mouth and he slammed his eyes shut. They couldn't keep shagging like this or their honeymoon would literally be over in less than a week. "Want you," he whispered. Sod not shagging. Sherlock was on top of him.

"I want you too but I don't know if I can," Sherlock admitted into John's ear. He continued to squirm into his husband anyway. Maybe if he caused enough friction between them, he would be able to get an erection and he could take John. He moved his lips to his husband's, tongue moving into the other man's mouth immediately.

John opened his mouth for Sherlock, surrendering completely to the kiss. It wasn't often that he would just lay back and let Sherlock dominate him but right now that was all he wanted. He wanted his husband to control him completely. He let his hands tug at the jeans he had bought for Sherlock, his hips lifting slowly as he gasped into Sherlock's mouth. "God, take me," he whispered against his husband's lips.

"I can try." Sherlock wanted nothing more to comply with John's request but his cock didn't want to cooperate right now. It wasn't surprising considering how many times he and his husband had shagged since they had left the flat. He continued to kiss John, getting a bit more aggressive with it, in his frustration of being unable to perform at the moment.

John reached hastily between them, cupping Sherlock through his jeans. God, he was desperate. After the day of soft touches and conversations he wanted nothing more than his husband inside of him. He whimpered into the aggressive kiss, squeezing Sherlock's penis through his jeans in an attempt to help. He didn't care that he wasn't even hard at the moment, all he knew was that he wanted Sherlock, even if he couldn't get hard.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss when he felt John's hand palming his cock through his jeans. He moved his hands to his jeans, fumbling with the button as he tried to undo them in his haste and excitement. Eventually he got the jeans undone and he it took some wiggle time to slide them down to his ankles. He got his underwear down much faster. He still wasn't hard, but pressed eagerly into John anyway.

Good. No troursers. John reached between them to yank his swimming suit down, lifting his hips into Sherlock's to pull them down. He kicked his legs slightly as he got them off. Sherlock wasn't hard either. Maybe they were just going to work themselves up and realize they couldn't do this. The moment he felt his cock touch Sherlock's he moaned, arching up into his husband.

Sherlock moved his mouth to John's neck and began sucking on the skin. Despite that they were both naked now, he still couldn't get hard. It looked like he was just going to end up frustrated. Maybe if they kept trying he would get there. He continued to squirm into his husband, his mouth moving to suck on one of John's shoulders now.

John tensed and glanced down at his husband's mouth. "N-No," he whispered softly, pulling his shoulder back so his scar was farther away from Sherlock's mouth. No matter how much he loved Sherlock's mouth, he didn't love it on or near his scars.

Sherlock faltered for moment, not understanding at first what John was saying 'no' to. "Sorry," he muttered and stopped kissing his husband. He sighed and rolled off his partner. He wasn't going to be able to do anything anyway. He laid next to John, breathing a little heavily. "Sorry," he repeated. He had ruined this but hopefully he hadn't ruined the rest of the day.

John tensed and looked at his husband. "I didn't want that to stop," he muttered, taking a deep breath. "Just didn't want," he hesitated and curled himself into Sherlock's side. "Scars," he finished lamely, closing his eyes. He was such a git. Being stupid because he hated his body. "Nothing to be sorry for," he whispered into Sherlock's side. "Should be me who is sorry."

"I know..." Sherlock admitted. He reached over and grabbed John's hand. He tilted his head to lean on his husband's shoulder. Was now the time to ask about the scars? Probably shouldn't, not now. Probably never. He didn't want any more fights with John the rest of the honeymoon. Really, he didn't want to fight with his husband ever again.

John sensed Sherlock's hesitation and looked at his husband. "They remind me off all the times I have failed," he said softly, clearing his throat at the admission. He had never told that to anybody. He kept his eyes closed. There was no way he could face Sherlock now.

Sherlock tilted his head to look up at John. "Why do you kiss my scars but when I kiss yours, you turn away?" That was really what he wanted to know, but up until now he had been reluctant to ask. It didn't bother him per se, but it did make him curious. He just wanted to try and understand.

Oh. That was what Sherlock wanted to know. John took a deep breath. This was getting too emotional. "Because you got your scars trying to protect me," he admitted as a blush spread across his cheeks. "I got them being stupid. Your scars...they represent something meaningful to me." He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, looking down at his husband sheepishly.

Sherlock frowned in thought. Maybe it was just one of those things he would never get. "John, I got shot by a sniper by running carelessly through the street and the one down my chest was because I had surgery done to repair damage done to my internal organs from being poisoned from a bite. The third one was because I didn't wake up from a drug induced coma and they wanted to make sure they hadn't missed anything."

"All to protect us," John replied swiftly like it was the most common knowledge in the world. "I got shot in the shoulder invading Afghanistan. Shot in the side being an idiot and not paying attention. And shot in the other shoulder playing a stupid game with your Dad." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. This was horrid. Even talking about them made him sick to his stomach. "I can barely stand to look at myself. How can you look at me and kiss my body when it looks like this?"

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "I am going to say something extremely stupid and cheesy. I blame it on all that telly you make me watch. However, it doesn't make the words any less true." He rolled over to be on top of his husband once more. "John, I don't care what you look like. It is what is in here that counts." He pressed two fingers into his husband's chest."Besides, you have a rather _adorable_ face...Johnny..." He smirked down at the man below him.

John felt his breath catch in his throat and gazed up at his husband with wide eyes. That had just come out of Sherlock's mouth. Even the use of his sister's stupid nickname couldn't deter him from laying in shock. He lifted his torso up, gently rolling them so Sherlock was on his back and he settled between his husband's legs. After that he wasn't sure he could speak so he lowered himself and gently met Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock wasn't sure to make of John's reaction at first and he moved with his husband without hesitation. He was about to ask if he had said something wrong when he felt his John's lips on his own. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around the man above him. Apparently he had said the right thing after all.

God, John had the perfect husband. How in the world did he manage to find a man like Sherlock and marry him? He pulled away from the kiss slowly, taking a deep breath and slowly opening his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered with a ghost of a smile. "You are really wonderful, you know." He pressed their noses together with a small laugh. "I am lucky to have you."

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for but he gave John a smile anyway. "You are welcome and yes, I am well aware of just how wonderful I am." The smile twitched into a cocky smirk. "You are so damn lucky because it just so happens I am perfect."

"Hush up, you git," John said with a laugh, his eyes bright as he studied his husband. "You know what I mean. Don't be so cocky," he muttered, grinning the entire time. He wondered if Sherlock knew how much he meant it, how much he really loved Sherlock and considered himself lucky to have the man in his life. "I love you more than the entire bloody universe," he paused, a smug smirk on his face. "Oh, I forgot. The universe is massive, Sherlock."

Sherlock just smirked and couldn't help but laugh. "I was just about to say my dear doctor. The universe is quite large, infinite really. So I guess that means you love me more than infinity, which I must say is rather impressive." The smirk stayed in place, obviously amused by this current conversation.

John rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. Hearing Sherlock laugh was worth it. "I do love you a lot," he whispered as he tilted his head and placed a kiss on one of his husband's cheekbones. "More than I ever thought I would." He pulled back to study Sherlock. "The first time I met you, you scared the shit out of me."

Sherlock's smirk faded into a frown. "I did?" He immediately recalled the first time they had met in the lab at St. Bart's and analyzed the entire situation. Grant it, when John first entered the room he hadn't even noticed the other man but that was pretty normal for him. It wasn't until John had offered him the use of the mobile had the former army doctor caught his attention.

"You knew everything about me. Things I had hidden from people." John met Sherlock's lips gently to get rid of his frown. "But I am glad I met you. I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met you that day at Bart's." He traced his thumb over his husband's cheekbone. "I am glad you scared me."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in thought slightly, but then his ever present smirk returned to his lips. "Impressed. I was impressed with you the first time we met. Well, surprised and then impressed with you." He turned his head and began to suck on John's thumb, biting the tip ever so lightly.

That made John freeze for a moment. "You were...impressed? By _me_?" He watched Sherlock's mouth on his thumb with a lop-sided smile, trying to hide his surprise but failing. "There is nothing impressive about me. At all," he whispered as he pushed his thumb farther into his husband's mouth.

Sherlock was about to respond but he decided to suck on John's thumb rather than try to talk around it. He tugged his husband forward ever so gently with his teeth trapped around the appendage. His fingers trailed over John's back carefully, trying to avoid any marks he may have left on his husband's skin from previous activities.

John moved forward slowly, pressing his free hand against the mattress next to his husband's head. This shouldn't have been so attractive but he was slowly getting turned on. Sherlock's mouth mixed with the soft touches on his back were perfect. "You are rather impressive," he whispered, his gaze transfixed on his thumb in Sherlock's mouth.

"Of course I am impressive. I am perfect _and_ amazing, remember?" Sherlock murmured around John's thumb, a smirk forming as well. He continued to suck and nibble on it, as he stared up at his husband with a bemused look. His finger tips continued their light touches, one hand moving to run through John's hair.

If this didn't stop soon John was fairly sure that he was going to spend the afternoon with a high amount of sexual frustration. "Enjoying my thumb?" He asked softly, pulling it out of Sherlock's mouth and bending down to run his tongue along his husband's bottom lip. "If we don't stop I am going to find a way to shag you."

"That really would be _impressive_ , and yes I was _._ " Sherlock smirked yet again and began biting lightly on John's lip since it was right there. "Maybe tonight, before you go to sleep I might be ready." He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Don't they make…what are they called, sex toys for situations like these?" He stopped his nibbling momentarily as he looked up at his husband inquisitively.

John coughed slightly and swallowed hard, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. "I, um, perhaps. I don't really know." He shifted against his husband nervously. Sherlock really didn't hold very much back. "I want to wait until tomorrow, maybe have you last a bit longer." He placed a soft kiss on the tip of Sherlock's nose.

Had he said the wrong thing again? It felt like he did that a lot, even before they were married or even dating. Sherlock had lost count how many times John had warned him about his timing on things. He thought he had been doing better but apparently not. "Tomorrow then." He gave his husband a small smile.

"Sherlock, you are fine." John managed a sheepish smile in his husband's direction. "I am not really...I don't talk so openly about sex and...toys," he muttered with a fierce blush. "I love you. You didn't do anything wrong." He laughed softly and slid down Sherlock's body so his head could rest on his husband's chest. "Are you hungry tonight for dinner?" He asked softly.

"No shame. Sometimes I forget how shy you are about sex related things," Sherlock admitted. He tilted his head and gave the top of John's a kiss. "Love you too," he said into his husband's head. He hugged John closer to him still, not tiring of the closeness they had been sharing all day. "I thought we were going to stay here all day?" John would probably need to eat. "But we can have dinner if you want."

Right. If John got up to eat then he would have to get up. Possibly put on clothes. "Not hungry anymore," he muttered into Sherlock's chest. "Would rather stay here with you," he corrected softly, lifting his head slightly to study Sherlock. He moved one hand to run through his hair as he pressed a kiss at the start of the scar at the center of his husband's chest.

Sherlock watched John for a little while, before speaking finally. "If you are hungry, you should eat. I could cook for you again." He scratched lightly at the back of his husband's head, the other hand stayed on John's back to help offer support to the man above him. His eyes closed in contentment; this had turned out to be wonderful day.

"Don't want to get up," John whispered into his husband's chest. If eating meant getting up and leaving his husband then he was perfectly content to stay here. "Do you want me get off of you?" He asked with a bit of a smirk. "I am a little heavier than you. Don't want to crush you on our honeymoon." He laughed softly and let his nails scratch gently at his husband's side.

"No, you are fine my dear doctor." Sherlock smiled up at John. "I would suggest ordering something in, but one of us would still have to get up and answer the door when the food arrived." He leaned up to kiss John on the lips.

John gently returned the kiss, sucking at Sherlock's bottom lip with a mischievous grin. "Want you," he whispered against his husband's lips. He knew he had said it earlier, that they hadn't been able to do much, but this side of Sherlock was turning him on faster than he was used to. Caring, smiling. "Really, really bad."

"I thought you wanted to wait until tomorrow, my dear doctor. You need to make up your mind." Sherlock smirked up at John. He continued to kiss his husband, gnawing the other man's bottom lip a bit. His fingers trailed through John's hair some more, scratching lightly at the scalp beneath.

"We are already naked," John replied instantly, looking down at Sherlock. "Can you?" He asked softly, glancing between them. He was already half hard. The least he could do was to help his husband. With a smirk he grabbed Sherlock's penis, giving it a slight squeeze.

"We have been naked for awhile now," Sherlock replied with a smirk. So, sensitive. He couldn't help but whimper and writhe into John's touch. "I can try but I don't think I will be able to do anything until later tonight or possibly until tomorrow. Sorry." That didn't stop him from trying. He bucked into his husband with another whimper.

"It is fine," John replied softly, swallowing hard to try and calm himself down. Deep breaths. Sherlock wasn't going to be ready and he should probably save his energy, too. He pulled his hand away slowly and looked down at his husband. "Tomorrow. I can wait." He laughed softly but stayed on top of Sherlock. "Don't plan on moving anyway." He smiled and placed a quick kiss on his husband's lips.

Sherlock smiled up at John. "Tomorrow then. Hey, did you want to take the boat out? Well, more like a yacht but believe it or not I know how to sail." He smirked a bit. "I wanted to be a pirate remember? What kind of pirate doesn't know how to sail?" His fingers continued to run through his husband's hair.

Boat. _Yacht_. "Sure," John whispered with a smile. "Wouldn't mind that at all. Never been on a _yacht_ before." He glanced at the floor where his swim suit had ended up. "Could dive off the side." He smirked slightly. "Stay out there until tonight."

"We could stay out on it all night, if you wanted. Sleep on the yacht. There will be beds and everything else we will need on it as well." Sherlock shifted under John a bit, to get a bit more comfortable. "If it is a nice enough night, we could sleep on deck under the stars. People do that on honeymoons…don't they?"

John rolled off of his husband. "Sounds wonderful," he said with a wide smile. "Shag on a boat. Never done that before." He slid off of the bed, pulling his swim suit on with a purposeful swing of his hips toward his husband. "That way I will eat." He crawled back on to the bed and gently met Sherlock's lips gently.

Sherlock smiled but then groaned when John left, he had gotten used to being next to his husband that the loss of the other man, though momentary, made him want John back in his arms immediately. When his husband returned he snuggled into his partner, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder.

"If we want to go boating you should probably get up," John whispered into his husband's hair. It wasn't that he minded, he loved being near Sherlock, but the idea of being on the boat was exciting too. "Unless you want to be a lazy git and admire me from there."

"I meant go out on the yacht tomorrow, but we can do it tonight." Sherlock disentangled from John and got up from the bed. He searched for his swim suit for a moment and then slid them on. He returned to the bed, sitting behind his husband and wrapping his arms around John's waist to draw him into a hug.

John relaxed back into Sherlock with a small sigh, his hands moving to rest on his husband's. "Is it stupid that I want to spend every moment I can with you? I have never felt like this before," he muttered with a small blush. He was thankful that Sherlock was behind him and couldn't see it. "I also have this insatiable urge to be shagged by you, but you know that one."

Sherlock leaned his head into John's neck, giving it small kisses. He moved his lips up to his husband's ear to whisper into it, "did you still want to go out tonight or wait until tomorrow?" He began sucking on the ear lightly. "You need to be shagged by me because I am a Sex God, clearly." He smirked and continued to suck on the lower lobe.

John shivered against his husband and pressed back against him. "Tonight," he whispered the best he could. It seemed like his husband was determined to leave him as sexually frustrated as possible. "Thought you hated that nickname," he gasped and curled his fingernails into the top of Sherlock's. "We _will_ shag on that boat."


	31. Chapter 31

Sherlock smirked again, even though John couldn't see it right now. "Mmm, I could get used to it. It is true." The smirk got bigger at his own cockiness. He released his husband from the hug. "It gets cold out on the sea at night, you will want to wear something warmer." He got up off the bed and began putting the outfit John had bought him back on. He regretted not bringing his coat now but there should be jackets in the boat house.

John tensed as Sherlock pulled away but slid out of bed as well, going through his luggage. He pulled his swim suit off and pulled on a pair of boxers and then some jeans. "Bring a bag," he stated over his shoulder. "You know, lube. Pajamas." He pulled a white shirt over his head and then his green jacket over his shoulders. "I have got..." He cleared his throat and reached into his bag, tossing a box of condoms toward his husband. "Ribbed. Thought we could try it." He blushed and looked away from Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed a bag like John asked and packed a few things inside. He caught the box with a confused look. "Why do we need condoms?" It truly perplexed him, but he put them in the bag anyway. He grabbed regular bottles of lubrication and some flavored, just in case. Once he was satisfied it had the needed supplies, he zipped it up. "We will want to pack a cooler too. Unless you want to fish for food." He slung the bag over one shoulder. It had been a long time since he had been on a boat, since he was young. Probably since the last time he had been at the beach house. His parents owned it and they had gone on holiday here a few times during his childhood.

Oh God. John blushed. "Th-They are ribbed," he muttered as he walked closer to his husband. "Thought it might feel...different." He met Sherlock's gaze and nervously tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. "Wanted to try it." He swallowed hard and moved toward the kitchen. Food. He grabbed a cooler from under the sink, tossing some food in before dumping ice in top. "Grabbed some steaks. Figured we could grill them," he stated softly as he moved back into the bedroom.

Ribbed? Was that supposed to mean something to him? It hadn't been in any of the books Sherlock had read. Guess he would just figure it out later. He followed after John and watched him dump the ice. "Could have just grabbed ice packs." He smirked a bit and grabbed some canned soda as well, dropping them on top of the ice. He grabbed a set of keys hanging by the front door. "Ready?"

Right. Ice packs. John was still so flustered about the condoms that he clearly wasn't thinking straight. "Yeah. Of course." He picked up the cooler with ease, following his husband out the door. "Did your Mum give you the yacht?" He glanced at Sherlock with a nervous smile, looking around as they walked.

"Not exactly. It is the family yacht. So is the beach house. We used to come here on occasion growing up," Sherlock admitted when he unlocked the padlock to the boat house. "Try not to laugh at the name of that yacht. The Old Man let Mummy name it." It wasn't quite dark out yet but he flipped on the light anyway. The side of the yacht read 'Holme-y'. He thought it was a ridiculous name but his mother had thought it was _cute_.

John glanced between the yacht and his husband, letting out a loud snort. "That is good," he said as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth. "I am going to be shagged on the 'Holme-y' and let everybody know about it." He brushed past his husband, pushing the cooler on and climbing up himself. "Do you know how to dri- er, operate, this thing?"

"Of course you would," Sherlock muttered. He dropped the bag into the yacht before climbing in after John. "Yes, father taught Mycroft and me." He began untying the ropes and then started it up. "Put the stuff down below?" He made sure the yacht was in reverse and then backed it out of the boathouse. Once they were out of the man-made inlet he turned the vessel around and began moving forward, picking up speed once they were far enough away from the shore and in deeper water.

John picked up the bag and dragged the cooler with him below the deck, his jaw dropping at how massive everything was. They were in a yacht and the bed was still huge. There was even room for a small kitchen. He shoved everything from the cooler into the small fridge, setting the bag next to the bed before going back up. "Amazing," he muttered as he moved behind Sherlock, pressing his forehead between his husband's shoulder blades.

Sherlock smirked and leaned into John a bit. "It is pretty nice." The further they went out, the windier it got since there was no land to break the wind flow. There wasn't any white caps and the sky was clear. They wouldn't have to worry about getting caught in a storm. He slowed down the yacht. "Take the wheel. Just keep it straight. I am going to release the sails. I would have you do it, but if you do it wrong the mast could swing around and knock you over board. Rather avoid that."

John swallowed hard and glanced at his husband before grabbing the wheel. Straight. He could do this. "Right. Okay." He nodded his head to reassure himself that he could do this. It was just steering a boat. No problem. "I think I have got this down," he shouted over his shoulder. "Not a problem. We should buy a yacht."

Once John took a hold of the steering wheel, he let go. It had been awhile since he had done this and it would have been easier if two people were doing it but a skilled person could do it on their own. Sherlock wouldn't quite consider himself that experienced but he went over everything mentally before untying ropes and using the pulley system.

Sailing was a bit more complicated than he ever thought. John watched Sherlock over his shoulder the best he could, taking occasional glances over so he could keep his eyes locked on the water in front of him. "Would it be too forward thinking to ask you to shag me on the deck?" He asked without glancing back at Sherlock.

"Give me a minute." Sherlock wasn't trying to ignore John, but this actually required his attention and concentration, especially since it had been years since he had last done this. It wasn't hard necessarily but it wasn't easy either. Eventually he got all the sails released and he walked back over to John. He cut the motor, letting the wind push them for now. It would save on gas. He wrapped his arms around his husband, resting his chin on the other man's shoulder and took the wheel to help John steer.

"You aren't going to get us lost, are you?" John pressed himself back into Sherlock. God, if they got lost nobody would find them. "You know, enough gas. A GPS or something so people can find us." He closed his eyes. Sherlock was watching everything in front of them, had the wheel. It was safe to just relax for a bit. "I want you to shag me on the deck in the middle of the night," he admitted softly.

"No, we won't get lost. But the yacht does have a GPS unit and even a depth finder. There is also a compass right here." Sherlock leaned forward and tapped an area near the helm. "We will be fine on gas and even if for some reason we run out there is a five gallon canister below deck. We can either anchor here or keep sailing for a bit. Do you have a preference?" He turned his head and gave the side of John's neck a kiss, sucking on it for a moment before pulling away.

"Don't care," John whispered, leaning further against his husband. "Up to you. Whatever you are more comfortable with." He tilted his head back, turning his head to suck at the skin under Sherlock's jaw. God, why was he so damn horny all of a sudden? Any movement that Sherlock made had him wiggling to get closer. "Sun goes down in about an hour," he stated against his husband's skin.

Sherlock lifted his head for John, eyes closing for a bit. "If you are interested in learning how to sail, we can anchor now and I can show you the ropes while there is still some daylight left." He smirked at his obvious pun, clearly pleased with himself despite how awful it had been. He gave a kiss to the top of his husband's head and then released John.

Learning things about the boat would result in being close to Sherlock, touching him. "Okay." He pulled away from Sherlock's skin with a parting nip pressing into his husband suggestively before locking his gaze forward. "What are you going to teach me, _Captain_?"

"I will teach you about tying knots first. Easy enough and one of the most important things while sailing except for the wind." Sherlock pressed a button near the steering wheel, and the anchor began to drop. The yacht slowed and finally came to a stop, when the anchor came to rest in the bottom of the sea. "I will be right back. We will practice on rope that isn't attached to important things." He walked below deck, lifted up the cushions to the makeshift couch and took out a coil of rope and then walked back up to John.

It seemed like Sherlock was all business while on board the yacht. John smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Sherlock, _dear_ , I was in the Army. I know how to tie knots." He took the rope gently and unraveled it, wrapping part of it around his husband and pulled him closer. "Any particular knot you would like to see?"

Sherlock smirked at John and then raised an eyebrow. "You were in the Army _not_ the Navy, John. There are six basic knots while sailing: thumb, square, figure eight, bowline, clove hitch, and a double half hitch. Do you know how to know to do all those, _Captain._ " The smirk returned, while he waited to see what his husband could do. "If you can do those, we will skip that lesson."

Oh. Well, that was embarrassing. John swallowed hard and glanced down at the rope. "Um. Right." He took a deep breath and tried to move the rope slightly. "No." He looked up at his husband with wide eyes and cleared his throat. "That just seems overly complicated. And horrible. Why would somebody need all of those knots?"

Sherlock almost smacked his face in disbelief but resisted the urge. He smirked at John again. "Those are only six out of several. They are just the most common ones. Okay. Let us start with the thumb knot, it is the easiest to learn. Some people call it an overhand knot. Anyway, once made this knot is difficult to untie. So, it is only used in important places like jib sheet." He waved a dismissive hand. "I am getting ahead of myself. We will get into that later, maybe. Depends on how well you do with the knots first. Give me your arm, we'll use it as a make shift mast. I won't tie it tight, so it will be easy to undo."

John stared at his husband with his mouth slightly ajar. "Yes. Okay." He nodded and held his arm out, his fingers curling into a fist. Perhaps the Army hadn't prepared him for the wonderful Sherlock Holmes. He looked up at his husband and couldn't help the smile on his face, lop-sided and sincere. "Don't use this for evil."

Sherlock stared at John blankly for a moment but then a slow smirk spread across his lips. He hadn't even thought about that but now he couldn't help but think of doing something devious. "Well, you used to be in the Army so even if I did you would be fine, right?" The smirk got bigger, now seriously consider trying something new. The only problem was he wasn't sure if he would be able to do anything about it.

John held his husband's gaze in a challenge and eyed the rope. "Bet I would be fine," he commented softly. Could he? Hell, who cared. Sherlock tying him up seemed absolutely wonderful. "Try me." He took a step closer to his husband, uncurling his fingers and pressing his hand against Sherlock's chest. "Sherlock."

Well, that settled it. He could teach John about sailing another time. They still had plenty of time left on the honeymoon for that. He grabbed his husband by the wrists and pulled him over to the main mast head. He leaned into John, so that his partner's back was against the pole. He began kissing the other man instead, as he pressed their bodies closer together still.

John followed Sherlock's lead without a second thought, returning the kiss eagerly. Good. Very good. He nipped at his husband's bottom lip with a short moan. What had they been doing? Kissing Sherlock was probably the best distraction he could think of. He moved his hand to scratch gently at his husband's side, pushing his tongue into his partner's mouth.

Sherlock continued the kiss, his tongue moving to tangle with John's as he began breathing through his nose. He pressed tighter into his husband, writhing excitedly into John. He wanted to make sure he could get an erection before he tied up his husband.

John pulled away from the kiss with a small gasp, panting into Sherlock's neck as he pressed eagerly into his husband. "Ah, God," he whispered into Sherlock's neck, wrapping both of his arms around his partner to scratch at his back. The sun wasn't down but...weren't they tying knots? Maybe he had successfully distracted Sherlock and taken attention away from the boat.

Sherlock wasn't getting hard and he had a feeling the only result would be both them being sexually frustrated. He sighed, leaning his head against John's. "Think we are going to have to wait until tomorrow my dear doctor. Sorry." Hopefully though, by tomorrow he would be recuperated enough to shag his husband twice.

John gasped into Sherlock's neck, taking several deep breaths and nodding. "'S okay," he muttered. It had to be fine, they would get to shag eventually. Patience. If John was patient then everything would work out. He couldn't expect Sherlock to shag him every time that he wanted it. They had both managed to wear themselves out. "Love you."

"Love you too." Sherlock just stayed leaned into John for awhile, holding onto his husband in close hug. "Do you want to go below deck or stay up here? You should probably eat soon." He finally lifted his head from John's, but didn't lean up off his husband. Even though they spent practically all day together in bed, he still wasn't tired of being near John.

John looked up at his husband with a soft smile. "I am a bit hungry," he stated softly as one of his hands moved to rub through Sherlock's hair. "Brought steaks. I could cook them, if you are hungry. I am going to cook mine." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "Do you want to help me cook? We could turn it into a hot date." He paused and grinned. "Get it? Hot? Cause...cooking. I am an idiot."

"I'm not hungry but I can help you cook, if you want. Or try. Not really sure I know much about cooking steaks." Sherlock smirked down at John. "Usually explaining a joke ceases to make it funny, but yes John I got it the first time around." The smirk got bigger as he grabbed his husband's hand and then led them below deck.

John followed after his husband with a wide smile. "Simple. Is there a grill anywhere?" He glanced around the area a second time and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "I am horrible at jokes. Sorry. Let's just forget I tried to be funny." He opened the cooler and pulled one of the steaks out, placing it on the counter.

Sherlock began looking through the few cupboards the small kitchen offered. "I don't know. Maybe there is one of those small portable ones. Here…" He finally found one in the last cupboard. "We will want use this up top, not below deck. Don't want the cabin to fill with smoke or flames to be in such small place."

John grabbed the steak and moved above deck with ease, glancing back at his husband. "We should...talk..." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Good idea to do it now while he could be distracted. "The condoms," he managed a quick look in Sherlock's direction. "It is not because of diseases or anything. It's..." He ripped the steak open and shrugged. God, he was already blushing. "They have little ribs on the outside and.. I thought..." He gently grabbed the grill, setting it up and placing his steak on it. "It would be different."

Talk? Sherlock froze on the last step because he thought John wanted to have another one of those serious discussion. Oh. Condoms. Why did they need to talk about them? He blinked, trying to focus on his husband's words but he was still trying to overcoming his confusion. He finally finished coming above deck and he sat down on one of the cushions on the side of yacht. John had said something about ribbed, right? "So, basically a different sensation while inside. Yes?"

Right. Sherlock was very blunt. John took a deep breath and nodded, trying to force the blush from his cheeks. "Yeah." He turned the grill on and kept his eyes locked on the steak. "You aren't upset or anything, are you?" He moved his eyes hesitantly to his husband. "I thought it would be a bit rude but you are always up for something new and we can both try it." He poked at the steak with a small shrug.

Upset? "No, why would I be?" Sherlock frowned in confusion but it turned into a smirk. "Of course I am always up for something new. I'm surprised but pleased, not upset." He got up and moved over to John. He didn't want to hinder his husband during cooking, so he just placed his head into the back of his partner's neck.

Good. Better than he thought, really. "I don't know. Because I didn't want you to think that just you wasn't good enough." John smiled slightly at the pressure of his husband's head on the back of his neck. His free hand moved behind him, grabbing Sherlock's hand. "Now you know why I have been so desperate to shag you," he said with a small laugh. "They man at the store said...they were wonderful."

"The point of all the new things we try is to enhance the sexual experience. We will try the condoms tomorrow then." Sherlock returned the squeeze, pressing his body closer into John. He kissed his husband's neck. "Wish we didn't have to wait," he admitted quietly. He did like trying new things and now he was eager to do it. It was exciting to him that John had come up with it. His husband's last idea had been fun and he had a feeling tomorrow would be amazing as well.

"Please don't tease me," John whispered as he flipped his steak. The moment he decided to try the idea he had been so ready to shag his husband but had backed out at the last minute every time. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pressed back into his husband. "I was thinking...tonight. Dark. On the deck." He dropped his head back and placed a soft kiss on his husband's jaw.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered and was about to move away when he felt John's lips on his jaw. He gave a faint smile. "We can try, but no promises. I hope we can." And he did. Hell, he didn't even want to have to wait at all. He gave his husband another kiss on the neck and then finally moved back over to the seat cushion.

Why did he have to be cooking? John didn't want Sherlock to be away from him. "Just...rest. Maybe if you rest you will be ready to go," he suggested as he glanced at his husband. This was getting out of hand. He hadn't even wanted sex this bad when he was with women and now he was practically begging his husband to be inside of him. "I could, I don't know, talk to you? See if that helps?"

"Talk to me?" Sherlock echoed with raised eyebrows. "John, we have been rubbing up against each other all day without result. Not sure talking will help, but we can try it if you want to." He laid down on the cushions, his hands coming to rest behind his head as he stared up at the sky. It was almost completely dark now.

"I have a way with words." John smiled and pulled his steak off the grill, plopping it on a plate and cutting off a bite. He chewed it slowly and watched his husband. Dinner could wait. He swallowed his bite and moved to straddle his husband, placing several soft kisses on his neck. Talk. It should be simple. "I love the way you feel inside of me." He closed his eyes, sucking at the skin beneath his mouth. "The way you stretch me and use me." He let out a nervous breath. "You are magnificent when you pound into me, gasping and moaning."

Sherlock wasn't expecting to John to straddle him but it was a pleasant surprise. He smirked up at his husband. He bucked into the man above me in response with a slight whimper, his arms wrapping around John immediately. God, he wanted his husband badly right now. Maybe he could get hard this time around, even though they had tried just a few minutes before against the mast.

John smirked against his husband's neck. "God, you have a wonderful cock. It feels so great." He reached a hand between them to palm Sherlock through his jeans. "So warm. Want you." He moved his mouth, sucking his husband's ear lobe into his mouth. "Love having your body above mine, love when I make you moan my name and mark me." His hand pressed harder against Sherlock's pants. "Fuck me, Sherlock."

So much was going on right now and his body loved every moment of it. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to comply with John's request. The hand on his penis made him whimper again, as he continued to press up into the man above with earnest. Nothing yet but maybe with some persistence and he would hopefully get there.

"Like that?" John smiled softly and nipped at the top of his husband's ear. "Oh, yes. You do. God, I can feel you. You feel wonderful already." He looked up at Sherlock for a moment before lowering himself, undoing Sherlock's jeans and pulling them down with his underwear. "You always feel wonderful in my mouth," he whispered against his husband's cock, slowly taking it into his mouth. Maybe this would help him.

"Oh God yes." Sherlock moaned when he felt John's mouth around his cock. He couldn't help but rock his hips up with a whimper but he managed to still himself afterward. He clawed at the cushions beneath him, eyes closing. His penis was gradually becoming firm but it wasn't quite hard enough for penetration yet.

John smirked the best he could, hallowing his cheeks out and swallowing around his husband's cock. So far it felt like it was going rather well. He hummed, closing his eyes and wrapping his hand around the part of Sherlock's penis he couldn't reach with his mouth. He opened his eyes to glance at his husband's hand clawing at the cushion beneath him. After several bobs of his head and pulled away with a parting lip to the tip. "God, that was wonderful, did you like that?" His hand pumped Sherlock's cock a few times.

When he felt John's mouth off his penis his eyes opened and his fingers didn't dig into the cushions as deeply. Sherlock glanced down at his husband with smirk, breathing slightly heavier than normal. "….Mmmm, 'sgood…" Without all the attention to haze his mind with emotions a thought occurred to him. "I think everything we need is below deck in the bag." He wasn't sure how long he would be able to maintain the erection he had right now.

"In this state we won't be shagging for very long," John stated softly, continuing to pump Sherlock's penis with slow, light strokes. "But if I work you up right now and leave you for a few hours..." He leaned forward and kissed the side of his husband's cock several times. "You will be better off later. I have planned this out." He took Sherlock's penis into his mouth again, exhaling loudly through his nose.

John's plan was to work him all up and then just _leave_ him there? Sherlock couldn't fathom that but suddenly that didn't matter anymore when he felt his husband's mouth on his cock again. He let a moan of appreciation, eyes closing once more.

How much longer should John keep this up? If Sherlock reached orgasm he was screwed for a while. He pulled away slowly and smirked. "Damn, listen to you." He licked up the underside of his husband's cock. "You sound fucking amazing."

Sherlock whimpered when John licked his penis. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Self control was what he needed right now. He didn't want to ruin whatever plans his husband had made for them. His fingers slowly unfurled from the seat cushions. Wait. He didn't want to but he forced himself to be still and calm.

John sat up slowly, licking his lips. "Told you," he muttered with a smirk, moving to his feet and grabbing his dinner. He cut off another bite and chewed it slowly, studying his husband proudly. "If we wait you will be able to shag me."

Right. Wait. Sherlock didn't want to but he understood why. He just needed something else to think about. His hands came to rest behind his head as he looked up at the stars. He would never see a sky like this in London. He didn't know anything really about what was above him, but it gave him something to concentrate on.


	32. Chapter 32

John took another bite of his dinner before setting the plate down. Sherlock was behaving himself. That was a pleasant change. "Right above you?" He moved to lay on the small bench as well, the top of his head pressing against Sherlock's as he pointed up. "Big Dipper," he whispered, tracing the shape with his finger the best he could.

Sherlock snuggled into John immediately, leaning his head into his husband's. He looked where John's finger pointed to. "The Big Dipper points to the North Star, yeah?" It was the only thing he really knew about the solar system. But that was useful information; it could orient someone when they needed directions at night.

John grinned and nodded. "Yeah. See, right off there." He followed the hook with his finger. "Right there." He reached to grab one of Sherlock's hands, lifting his husband's arm and pointing at a different part of the sky. "Little Dipper," he whispered with a smile. Sure, Sherlock didn't care, but this was...romantic. Romantic in their sense, at least.

Sherlock followed their pointing fingers with his eyes. Well, he never thought he would be willing learning the solar system but John was next to him. Really, that was all that mattered. He tilted his head slightly and kissed the top of his husband's head, snuggling a little closer. Partly because he was beginning to get cold but mostly because he just like having his body pressed in as tightly as possible against John's.

"Oi, stop distracting me," John whispered, glancing at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile. "I am trying to teach you things and be romantic about it." He laced their fingers together and gave his husband's hand a small squeeze. Shit. He only knew those two. The simple ones. Would Sherlock know if he started making them up? "Right there." He cleared his throat and draw a random line between stars. "That's...Leo. Supposed to look like a lion."

"Sorry." Sherlock smirked at John a bit. He followed his husband's hand and arched a brow. "Leo?" His brows furrowed together in thought. "Isn't there something about a belt or something?" He was trying to remember his days of school when he was supposed to be learning about astronomy.

"That's Orion," John corrected softly. He knew that much. Except he had no idea where Orion actually was. "Leo, he is a lion. You know, astrology and signs and all that. Depending on when you are born," he paused. "Don't get into it. Rubbish. Just like that crap telly I got you into." He laughed softly and closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a content sigh. "This is nice," he whispered. All he could hear was the water lapping up against the side of the yacht and Sherlock's constant breathing.

"Yeah, that one." Sherlock gave John a slight smirk. "Believe it or not I know quite a bit about astrology. Learned about it while working a case for Lestrade. Someone claiming to be a psychic offered to help. Turned out they were the killer." He gave a slight shrug and glanced back up at the sky.

"Did you delete all the information after that?" John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock couldn't possibly know about constellations without knowing that the Earth went around he sun. He would have corrected John the moment he realized he hadn't pointed out Leo. "I love you," he whispered as he turned his gaze back to the sky.

"I only needed it for that one case, so yeah. No point in retaining drivel like that." Sherlock shrugged a bit. He refrained from mentioning it was one of the first cases he had worked with Lestrade on and at the time he had still been highly addicted to heroin. It was amazing he remembered anything about it all. Distracted by his thoughts, it took a moment for John's words to register. "Love you too," he finally replied and gave his husband a slight sideways hug, a little tighter than intended.

If Sherlock didn't stop pulling him closer he was going to...sod it. John turned and met his husband's lips sloppily, exhaling into Sherlock's mouth. Stars could wait. That was why Sherlock's hug had been so wonderfully tight, wasn't it? Because he was just as eager as John? He had enjoyed the teasing earlier and John knew it was going to help. It had to. He couldn't wait much longer.

Sherlock was surprised by the kiss but it was a welcome distraction from his current thoughts. He returned the kiss aggressively, growling slightly as he bit John's bottom lip. He wasn't sure if he was eager because of the sexual frustration from earlier or because he was trying desperately to banish his thoughts. Did it matter? He was kissing his husband, fingers began scratching at John's back through the shirt's fabric.

John moaned into Sherlock's mouth at the sensation of his husband scratching him. Rough. Sherlock was being deliciously rough. Was it from the stuff he had done earlier? He found it hard to care and pressed into his husband eagerly. He pulled away from the kiss with a soft gasp, keeping his lips against his husband's as he took several deep breaths.

Sherlock rocked up into John roughly. He wanted, _needed_ , his husband _now_. Everything was below deck though. He wiggled out from under John, grabbed his husband by the wrist and drug his partner with him in his wildly needy lust. Once they were down below, he let go of John and fumbled to get off his trousers in his driving haste.

John followed Sherlock without a word, yanking his jeans down. God, he needed Sherlock to shag him. He grabbed the bag hastily, ripping it open and tossing a purple tube toward Sherlock. Grape. Why did he grab the flavored lube? Sod it, too busy now. He grabbed the box of condoms and ripped it open, grabbing one and ripping the foil open with his teeth. "Want you." He moved in front of his husband and yanked his underwear down, pulling the condom out and slowly rolling it on to Sherlock's penis.

Sherlock was feeling far too impatient to want to wait for John to put the condom on. He was already hard and throbbing. The condom felt a bit confining but he didn't care about that right now. All he could think about right was fucking John as hard as possible. Would lube need to go on the condom? He would figure that out later. He advanced on his husband and forced the other man against the wall. Instead of kissing John, he bit down on his husband's shoulder, his body pressing tightly to the other man.

John let out a soft shout, his shoulder lifting slightly against Sherlock's mouth. His body was so wonderfully close. "God, yes." He reached between them the best he could, stroking his husband through the condom slowly. The feeling of the ribs on the outside of the condom against his fingers made him moan loudly and he turned his head to breathe heavily against Sherlock's ear. What was he waiting for? John lifted one leg and wrapped it around Sherlock's hips, pressing against the wall and lifting the other one. His hand stayed between them, the strokes still slow and soft on his husband's cock.

Sherlock's mind was hazy with lust, and he continued to bite into the shoulder with loud growls. He was exhaling nosily through his nose, refusing to take a breath through his mouth. Lube. Right. He went to remove the cap but his hands were shaking. No. Not right now. The memories had triggered his desire for drugs and without them his body didn't seem to know how to function. He hadn't had any since coming back to London, he shouldn't be going through withdrawal. He screamed his rage and then slumped into John in defeat, suddenly very quiet and still except for his heavy breathing.

Something wasn't right. Deep breaths. Get calm. "Shh, Sherlock, it is alright." John let his legs drop, landing lightly on the floor and lifting his husband's head. Shit, his shoulder hurt. He could feel some blood. Something was _definitely_ not right. "C'mere, lay on the bed." He gently moved his husband, laying him on the bed and slowly pulling the condom off. He had others, it wasn't a real loss. Taking care of his husband was more important. He studied Sherlock for a long moment. Shaking. A bit pale. There was some sweat on his brow. "Okay, I am going to make you some tea. Lay here." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his husband's forehead, grabbing his boxers and slipping them on as he moved toward the small kitchen on the opposite wall of their bed.

Sherlock laid down without a word. He wanted to tell John he was fine but he knew his husband would know better. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong. He shouldn't be having this problem. It didn't make sense really but it was the only thing he could think of.

John made a small cup of tea, dropping honey into it. No milk, that could upset Sherlock's stomach. He turned toward the bed, both of his hands wrapped around the cup, and smiled softly at his husband. "Here." He moved on to the bed, passing the mug off before pushing Sherlock up to sit and sliding behind him. "Relax." His arms wrapped gently around Sherlock's lower stomach and he placed a soft kiss against his husband's temple, stretching to do it. What in the world was wrong? Being shagged was the least of his worries now.

Sherlock took the cup of tea, maintaining his silence for now. If John wasn't going to ask then he was more than happy not to share. Would he anyway if his husband did inquire? He felt stupid, foolish even. He had finally calmed down, although he was mad at himself now. He had psyched himself out. He sighed and took a sip of the tea finally, thinking too furiously to notice the change in taste of the hot beverage.

John closed his eyes for a long moment. His husband was still tense. "Keep drinking. I am not trying to demand anything of you, it will just help you feel better." He moved his hands, lifting them to rub circles into the muscles around his husband's shoulder blades. He leaned forward to place a soft kiss at the nape of Sherlock's neck. "If you want to talk, I'm here. I am not going to force it out of you,"

Sherlock gave a faint smile and small nod of his head in response to John's words. He took another drink of the tea, this time noticing the taste. It didn't taste bad really but he still preferred it with milk. "Honey?" He asked, just to say something finally even though he already knew the answer.

John laughed softly, kissing between Sherlock's shoulder blades. "Yes, honey. It is going to calm you down a bit," he whispered into his husband's skin as his fingers continued to massage the muscles he could find. Something had happened, obviously. Sherlock had been more rough with him than he had in a while. The bite mark on his shoulder had stopped bleeding, though it hadn't bled much in the first place. He was just curious now, wanted to know...but he couldn't push Sherlock. "I love you."

"Love you too." Sherlock fell quiet after that for awhile but eventually he turned so he was facing John. A frown crossed his features when he saw his husband's shoulder. "Sorry, I…" He trailed off with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't sure how to try and explain what had happened a few moments ago. He dropped his gaze into the tea, eyes furrowed in thought.

John looked confused for a long moment before following his husband's gaze. "Oh, no, it is fine." He shook his head, smiling softly. "It's fine." Because...it was. He shouldn't have been used to it but he was. Scratches, bites. It was nothing new to him now. "Don't worry about it. Are you alright? That is what matters right now, Sherlock." He reached out to gently push the mug up. "Drink. You will feel better. I am a Doctor." He winked.

Was he alright? Would he ever _really_ be okay? Or would the past constantly torment him for the rest of his life? It hadn't been a problem before really, but opening himself back up to emotions made it difficult to ignore. "For now," Sherlock replied vaguely. He kept his gaze transfixed on the contents of the mug.

John frowned a bit and nodded, licking his lips nervously. All he wanted to do was please his husband, take care of him. Something had happened, obviously. He didn't know what. One moment they were about to shag and the next Sherlock was limp against him. He didn't want to push it, didn't want to upset Sherlock. "Okay. Do you want anything else?"

Sherlock shook his head at the question asked. He was quiet a long moment. Wasn't he supposed to be working on communication? "Do you…" He trailed off, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. When his eyes opened again, he lifted his head to look at John. "Do you want to know why I started taking drugs?" Well, he supposed it was just an excuse really. It wasn't like anyone had forced him into it. He had done it readily, all for the chance to escape reality.

It felt like somebody had dumped ice water on John. His head shot up and he met Sherlock's gaze. "Y-Yeah," he whispered, swallowing hard. He had always wanted to know what fueled his husband's decisions in the past. "If you are comfortable, that is," he added as quickly as he could. He scooted forward on the bed and rested a hand on Sherlock's knee, rubbing at his knee cap with his thumb. Comfort. If Sherlock was going to tell him John was going to be there, comfort him and let him know that he was wonderful no matter what.

Sherlock was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "You remember the first time you met my father? When he slapped me and I told you that he had done worse? Well, I never did what the Old Man expected of me or wanted. He would beat me. I don't mean normal discipline either. I mean bruises, blood, broken bones. I guess he thought he could beat me into submission, I don't know." He shrugged slightly. "So, when I got older I turned to drugs. To escape reality. Probably not the best decision in hindsight but…" Another shrug and he fell silent.

John looked at his husband and dropped his head. That is not what he wanted to hear, to ever hear. He wanted to bring Sherlock's dad back from the dead and make him pay for everything he had done to Sherlock. He wished he could say he understood why Sherlock had turned to drugs but he didn't. Nobody ever would. He had run off to the Army to leave his life behind, Sherlock just took a more destructive past. What did he say to that? He squeezed his husband's knee and cleared his throat. It was the least he could do.

"Everyone knew but nobody did anything to help. No one wanted to upset father, except for me apparently." Sherlock gave the faintest of smirks but his eyes were distant and sad. "Anyway, when I was telling you about that case that I worked with Lestrade with the 'psychic,' it was when I was still on drugs. Pretty bad too, it was one of the first cases the Detective Inspector and I worked together. I guess talking about it triggered some kind of psychosomatic drug withdrawal. I don't know. It is stupid really," he muttered and looked away from John.

"Sherlock, it isn't stupid," John said finally, looking up at his husband. "My Dad...he was an alcoholic and I remember learning that people could stop drinking but they would always be an alcoholic. You have kicked your habit, you don't use drugs all the time anymore...but Sherlock, you will always be a drug addict." He took a deep breath, licking his lips and shrugged. "We all have stages where we rebel and you chose to rebel to the extreme. You were young. You got caught up. I can't blame you or hate you for any of it." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. That was all he could say, really. What else? "I can certainly tell you that you don't need braces, though." He wiggled his shoulder with a small laugh. "Perfect bite mark, that is."

Sherlock managed a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. Distraction. Usually sex would be the first thing he thought of but he certainly wasn't in the mood for it by any means. He stood up off the bed. "I am going to go fishing." He grabbed one of the rods hanging along the wall and walked back up to the deck, shivering in the night air because he hadn't bothered to put clothes on. He didn't care though and moved over to the cushions and lifted them up, the tackle box was underneath. He opened it and purposefully took his time while choosing bait.

John laughed softly and grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms. "Oi, c'mere." He came behind Sherlock, lifting one leg and slipping the pajama bottoms up before lifting the other and yanking the trousers up to his husband's hips. "There." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's back and pulled away, looking out the water with a smile. Fishing. That would calm Sherlock down, get his mind off of everything. He moved below deck, grabbed a fishing pole of his own, and returned. "I am going to join you," he stated softly, moving to stand beside his husband. He picked his hook and bait before moving and casting out.

Sherlock wiggled into the pajama bottoms with John's help. He finally picked out a Mepps 5, even though he should probably use a six at this depth. He did an overhead cast and flicked the line out into the still water. He didn't like just waiting for bites, he preferred to try and lure fish with a moving bait. "I haven't been fishing…well, probably about as long as I have been sailing. Just a boy, then." He didn't usually make conversation for the sake of it but he needed something else to think about.

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled for a moment. "Haven't been fishing since I was, I don't know...young. Dad was still alive," he muttered with a small snort. "And we didn't even catch anything. I remember because I cried." He looked up at his husband, grinning at the slight admission. "I wouldn't mind taking Amy out here when she is older, go fishing with her." He shrugged and watched the end of his fishing pole patiently. Nothing yet. Fishing was something he had never been good at because it meant waiting. He wasn't very good at waiting.

Sherlock had reeled the line in about half way when he got a hit. He jerked the pole to hook the fish and began reeling faster, despite the resistance on the other end. He almost had the fish out of the water, but the line snapped. "Of course." It was his own fault though, he had made the line too taut, too soon. He looked over to John. "We can do summer vacations here with little Sandi. Isn't that something families do?"

John watched the fish swim away, smiling warmly at his husband. "Yeah. When she is older, of course," he stated sternly, a small twitch at the end of his fishing pole catching his attention. "I mean, I don't want her to come out on a boat while she's young. Maybe when she is...ten, or something." He nodded a bit and cleared his throat. Another jerk at the end of his pole and he picked it up, reeling slowly.

Sherlock nodded. "You will need to teach her how to swim first." He smirked at his husband before moving back over to the tackle box. He needed to put a new leader and of course bait on the fishing line. He re-threaded the line through the hoops, snipping off the frayed end before he began tying the line to the leader. He paused what he was doing to see if John had caught what was jerking on the line.

John grinned and stood up, starting to reel faster. "Yes." He smiled eagerly before the fish was brought up. "Oh." He sighed and brought the small golden fish on to the deck. "Well, that was anti-climatic." He pulled the hook from the fish's mouth and dropped it back in the water. Now he remembered why he didn't like fishing.

Sherlock shivered again and once he got the leader on, he decided he was tired of fishing already. "You can keep fishing if you want, but I think I am going to go back below deck. Maybe take a nap." He wasn't tired really but there wasn't a lot else to do on a yacht and he would rather not try to navigate at night in water he wasn't familiar with.

John tensed and watched his husband. Had he done something wrong? He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and stood slowly. "I will come with you," he stated softly, moving to set his fishing pole on the cushioned bench and grabbed his husband's hand. "C'mon." He stood on his toes and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek, tugging at his hand as they both went below the deck.

"Got bored of fishing already, sorry." Sherlock gave a small smirk as he followed after John. He crawled into the bed after his husband and snuggled in next to the other man immediately. He pulled the blankets up over them, to help warm them up faster. His head came to rest on John's shoulder, turning so his stomach and chest pressed into his partner's side. One hand still held onto his husband's and the other draped across John's stomach.

John shifted under the blankets and smiled. Perfect. Sherlock pressed against his side, willing to be close and snuggle. "Don't hate me if I fall asleep," he said with a soft smile, looking down at his husband. The slight rocking motion of the yacht was the most wonderful thing he could imagine falling asleep to. "And know that I love you." He placed a small kiss in his husband's hair.

Sherlock smiled. "I won't. I was planning on taking nap anyway." He gave John a sideways hug. "I love you too my dear doctor." He snuggled closer to his husband still. It was impossible to be too close John. He let his eyes close, even though he wasn't sure if would actually sleep. He had napped earlier in the day, so it seemed unlikely.

John just hummed in response, his fingers tracing shapes lightly on his husband's hand. Sleep. After everything that had happened he was exhausted. Sure, they had napped before they got on the boat, but the emotional roller coaster his husband had put them on had run him down. He took one deep breath and his finger stilled as he finally fell asleep.

It didn't come as a surprise when sleep didn't find Sherlock. He was thinking about everything he had talked to John about. He sighed quietly. He had ruined his husband's night and even this morning. He was determined to make it up to John and he knew just how to do that. He smirked to himself in satisfaction.


	33. Chapter 33

Once it was morning, Sherlock shifted carefully and crawled under the covers. He moved down to be in between his husband's legs. John had mentioned wanting to wake up to a blow job. He could certainly manage that. He gently pulled his husband's penis out through the slit in the boxers. He put his mouth around John's cock and began sucking.

The sudden cool air made John groan softly and he sighed, licking his lips. He had slept wonderfully, his dreams happy and...What was that? He slowly opened his eyes, turning his head to ask Sherlock what was wrong with him. Was he already out of... "Oh, God," he muttered sleepily, lifting his head slightly to study the massive lump under the blankets. That was his husband, between his legs, waking him up with a blow job. "Fuck." His head fell back on to his pillow as his hips lifted slightly. It was official: Sherlock Holmes was the best husband ever.

Sherlock smirked, pleased with himself as he heard John stirring. He continued to suck on his husband's penis, increasing the rhythm and taking as much of it in his mouth as he could. Almost to the point of gagging, but he didn't mind. He wanted to start this morning off right and hopefully he wouldn't do anything to screw up the rest of the day.

John moved a hand to rest on Sherlock's head above the blanket. Jesus, did his husband just take almost his entire cock into his mouth? "Sherlock," he moaned and his hips lifted slightly again and he hissed, forcing his hips back down to the mattress. His hand moved and pulled the blanket off of Sherlock with sloppy movements and he let out another groan at the sight of Sherlock giving him a blow job.

Sherlock did gag a bit when John's hips lifted a little but he didn't let that slow of his pace. He continued to bob his head, as fast as it was possible for him go. Once more he went as far as he could, this time the point where he gagged again. Despite that, he kept going and ignored his own discomfort.

Despite the gagging from his husband John lifted his hips again as he came with a shout. His body fell limp against the mattress. "Fuck. God." He struggled to get his breathing under control, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He had made Sherlock gag and at that thought he shot up, pulling his husband into a sloppy hug. "Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry."

Dear God, was John trying to choke him to death? Usually he gulped it down with no problem, but most of it spit out as he coughed. It made quite the mess. Sherlock returned the hug with one arm, as he tried to swallow normally. "It is fine. Did it for you." He gave his husband a small but reassuring smile. He leaned his head into John's shoulder.

Well, maybe he wouldn't try to shove his dick down Sherlock's throat next time. John glanced between them with a small grimace. "Sorry," he whispered again. That had been one of his deepest secrets, his biggest fantasy, and his husband had done it for him. When he had let Sherlock fuck his mouth he had prepared for it, had given Sherlock consent. In his sleepy haze he had just taken what he wanted. "You are wonderful."

"I know. I am amazing and perfect, remember?" Sherlock tilted his head up to smirk up at John. "I am sorry if I ruined last night for you. I wanted to make it up to you." He leaned his head into his husband's shoulder once more, relaxing for the first time since he had laid next to John last night. "Love you." Right of course. _Now_ he was tired. "Didn't sleep last night. Would you mind if I took a nap right now?"

"I love you, too." John placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's temple and nodded, moving to lay down and bringing Sherlock with him. "I don't mind at all. I will stay right here." He smiled and pulled Sherlock tighter against him. "And you didn't ruin last night but I will still accept the morning blow job." He laughed softly and started to run a hand through his hair soothingly.

Sherlock nodded slightly at John's words and then snuggled in closer to his husband still, his head resting on his partner's chest now. It wouldn't be a very good idea to try and sail while he was tired, so he should nap now. He closed his eyes and eventually sleep found him.

Good. Sleeping. Sherlock sleeping was always a very good thing. John tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and relaxed the best he could. What did he do now? Hell, Sherlock did this all the time. What did his husband usually think about? He took a deep breath and studied the ceiling, letting the slight rocking of the yacht calm him as his thoughts wandered to Afghanistan.

The nap didn't last long, not even two hours. Sherlock stirred with a groan and then shifted slightly so he could look up at John. "Want to stay out another day? We never did shag on the deck yet, but we have all honeymoon if you want to go back to the house." It didn't really matter to him either way, so he had asked to see what John would want to do.

John jumped slightly at Sherlock's voice and looked down at him, wincing when the sheets stuck to his thighs. "Well, I would love to stay." He leaned down and gently met Sherlock's lips. "But that means we will have to find new sheets." He blushed. "We kind of need to wash these ones. But...please, I want to shag on the deck." He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth nervously. "So bad."

Sherlock smirked up at John. "I think I can arrange for that to happen." He stretched a bit, sat up, and got out of the bed. He took of the pajama bottoms, grabbed the condoms and then the lubricant. He was certain he would be able to get an erection no problem this morning. He was excited but he didn't want to jump right into shagging. Kissing and squirming first was half the fun.

John laughed softly. "Now? Bit eager, are we _Young Master Holmes_?" He slid from the bed with a soft laugh, grimacing at his boxers and slid them off. Needed to wash those, too. They had seriously made a mess. He moved forward and gently met Sherlock's lips, pulling with with an amused smirk. "Also, grape?" He motioned toward the lube in Sherlock's hand. "Still makes no sense."

Sherlock smirked at John "God yes now." Part of the reason was to make up for last night and the other part was because he just enjoyed shagging the hell out of his husband. He gave a small shrug. "I had grabbed the flavored lube for just in case. I didn't know how long you would want to stay out at sea. Wanted to come prepared." The smirk returned to his lips.

John rolled his eyes playfully and reached into the box of condoms, grabbing one and knocking the box to the ground. "Then shag me," he whispered against Sherlock's lips as he opened the foil wrapper and slowly rolled the condom on to Sherlock's penis. He gave his husband's cock a few quick strokes before turning and walking up the stairs to the deck.

John's touch made Sherlock whimper. The condom still felt weird and he wondered if he would ever get used to wearing them. Screw the kissing and squirming, he wanted his husband _now_. He hurried up the stairs, stumbling slightly in his haste. He already had an erection. With restraint he managed to not pounce and tackle John onto the wooden deck, but he did advance upon his partner quickly. He pressed their bodies together, fingers dipped in lube already.

John smiled up at Sherlock, grabbing his husband's hand and yanking it around his body to rest on his arse. "God, I want you," he whispered as he stood on his toes to gently meet his husband's lips. He winced a bit because, shit, he could _smell_ the grape lube. Did he want their sexual escapade on the deck of the family yacht to smell like grape? Of course he did. It was too late to demand Sherlock go find another bottle. He nipped at Sherlock's lip softly. "Get me prepared and I will lay on the deck," he whispered softly.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. When John was just as excited as he was, it just seemed to make things better. He moved his fingers into John, his body pressed into his husband's. He kissed his partner while he prepped John.

John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and pressed back against his fingers. This was going to be wonderful. He was ready _now_ , wanted his husband. "Now." He pulled away from the kiss with a whimper and looked up at Sherlock with a small smile. He pulled away from his husband and moved to lay on his back, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he spread his legs for Sherlock.

"For someone on the receiving end, you sure are demanding." Sherlock smirked down at John as he straddled his husband's hips. He still wasn't sure if he should add lube to the condom, but he used what was left over from prepping John, just in case. He slid in with practiced ease, with a small moan. Felt different than usual, but it still felt good.

"Shut up and fuck me," John gasped, reaching up to yank Sherlock down against him. Oh, God, that felt amazing. Why hadn't they thought of that before? He wiggled under Sherlock, working his legs out and wrapping them tightly around Sherlock's back. "Fuck. Jesus, Sherlock." He turned his head with a whimper, biting down on his husband's shoulder.

A throaty growl of excitement came from Sherlock when John bit his shoulder. The pace picked up as he thrust harder into his husband. He moaned loudly, and began biting and sucking on John's neck. He put one hand on the deck floor and the other began scratching his husband's side.

The moment they were back in London John would have to thank the bloke who recommended ribbed condoms because _fuck_ it was amazing. Each thrust forced a small shout from John and he forced it straight into Sherlock's shoulder. The mouth on his neck, the scratching... "God, more." His hands clawed desperately at Sherlock's back.

John's words and scratching only encouraged Sherlock even more. He continued to thrust into his husband, ramming as hard as he could as fast as he could. He moved his lips to the shoulder he hadn't made bleed yesterday and began to bite it with a loud growling, moans. His fingers dug into John's side even deeper, leaving a trail of red marks.

"God, Jesus," John shouted because he realized suddenly that the boat was rocking with the power of Sherlock's thrusts and, good Lord, it felt amazing. What was even more amazing was the fact that Sherlock was lasting this long despite the demands John knew he was putting on his husband's body. He wanted to reach between them and stroke his erection but he didn't and instead kept his hands on Sherlock's back, scratching with fervor. "Yes. Sherlock, yes." He yanked at his husband's hair to sloppily meet his lips.

Sherlock wasn't sure why he was lasting so long considering how many times they had shagged in the last few days. Maybe it was the condom. There wasn't the same amount of friction on his cock as usual. He continued his rough, fast thrusts. Although he was having trouble staying in place now, so he placed his other hand on the floor to help stabilize himself. He growled into the kiss, but it didn't last long because his breathing became fast and irregular.

John groaned at the loss of his husband's scratches, moving one hand to run roughly down Sherlock's chest. Each thrust pushed his body against the wood slightly and he moaned, the muscles of torso tensing as he tried to still himself. "Love you. Oh, God." He threw his head back against the wood with a small 'thud.' They hadn't shagged this rough in a while and John _loved_ it. He opened his eyes to watch Sherlock's face, his other hand moved to rest lightly on his cheek, his thumb running across Sherlock's cheekbone.

Sherlock moaned from John scratching, lowering himself slightly so his husband could reach more of his chest. For as rough as things were going right now, the thumb on his cheek was a startling contrast and a slight surprise. He gave John a smile as he looked down at his husband, his pacing slowing a bit. He leaned down to kiss the man below him, forcing himself to breathe through his nose loudly.

John moaned softly into the kiss as Sherlock slowed the pace, returning the kiss with a slight smile. They had never done this, changing pace, and he suddenly realized that he liked it. He tightened his legs around Sherlock to make him stop moving, gently running his tongue across his husband's bottom lip. "I love you. So much." He pulled away with a soft smile and slowly loosened the hold with his legs.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss and he stilled for a moment. "Love you too," he managed to get out and then resumed thrusting but at a slower pace still. His breathing had become manageable now and he leaned down to whisper into John's ear. "Love being inside of you like this," he admitted. Even though the pace had slowed considerably now; he wasn't sure how much longer he would last. He brought a hand up to run his knuckles along his husband's face lightly.

John moaned softly at Sherlock's words, moving one hand to scratch softly at the back of his husband's neck. "Love having you inside of me," he whispered in return, closing his eyes at the soft touch of Sherlock's knuckles. They had taken quite the turn. Rough and fast to slow, loving. It was wonderful. "When you are above me and making love to me I am the luckiest man in the world." He smirked slightly and opened his mouth, lapping at Sherlock's index finger with his tongue.

Sherlock smiled down at John. A moan escaped him when he felt his husband's tongue on his finger. He continued the slow but steady rhythm until he finally came with a loud moan. He collapsed to the side of John as he pulled out. The condom had caught his semen and filled up, causing his penis to be very sticky now. He didn't seem to notice or mind, his head coming to rest on his husband's shoulder. "That was most wonderful." He turned his head to smile up at John.

John grinned like an idiot at his husband. "That was..." He took several deep breaths, shaking his head with a laugh. The condom, Jesus. And he was _already_ a bit sore from the pounding he took at the beginning. "Fuck," he groaned and sat up, trying to get a glance at his back. It was rubbed raw from the wood beneath him and the scratches on his side were a bright red against his skin. "That was fucking amazing, that was." He took a shaky breath and kept his back to Sherlock as he grabbed his erection and started to stroke in quick, short movements.

Sherlock smirked up at John. He had been so focused on shagging his husband he hadn't even noticed that his partner had gotten an erection. In truth, he was surprised since he had just given John a blow job just this morning. He rolled away from his husband some, and peeled off the condom trying not to make too much of a mess so there would be less to clean up.

John came with a soft moan, wiping his hand on the deck and falling back again. "Was it alright with the condom?" He asked softly, tugging his bottom lip as he panted with a foolish grin. "Because it felt wonderful to me. Going to shag you with one so you can feel it." He watched Sherlock curiously. "You have never shagged with a condom on, have you?" He laughed and snatched it from his husband's hand, tying it off with ease and handing it back.

Sherlock nodded. "It was fine. I am trying to figure out if I just had an extra spurt of stamina today that let me last so long or if it was because of the condom. It didn't allow the same amount of friction as usual." He gave a slight shrug in response to John's last question. "Of course not. You should know by now that the only person I have ever shagged is you."

John thought back to the last time he had shagged with a condom on and furrowed his brow. "You know, it might have been both. Condoms typically don't provide a lot of friction and you're not really used to them." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "If you didn't like it we won't do it again," he whispered with a reassuring smile. "But I will use one on you before this is over so you can feel it. It was...bliss." He closed his eyes and relaxed against the deck, letting the sun warm his body.

Sherlock pursued his lips in thought. He really wanted to set up an experiment to test that theory. Maybe when they got back home to London, but not while they were on their honeymoon. He was supposed to be spending time and paying attention to John. "We will have to try it sometime." It probably wouldn't be tonight, that was for sure. He flicked the used condom into a trash bin as he stood up. "Going to clean up a bit below deck and then I will sail us back to the beach house."

John sat up quickly and grabbed Sherlock's hand, squeezing it as he looked up at his husband. "I love you," he whispered as his hand slid from Sherlock's. He stood slowly himself, wincing. He was going to be sore for a bit, it felt like. He brushed past Sherlock to go below deck, collapsing on the bed and ignoring their earlier mess. If Sherlock was going to clean up then he was going to take a quick nap.

"Love you too," Sherlock replied as he followed after John. He frowned at the damage his husband had taken on his back. He entered the bathroom, it was big enough to hold a half shower and a toilet. He started the water, letting it warm up a bit before he got inside. He took a quick shower, air dried and then got dressed in yesterday's clothes since he hadn't thought to bring an extra set with him.

John groaned and shifted on the bed, rolling on his side to look at Sherlock. "Hi," he whispered with a sheepish grin. Back to land, back to the little beach house that he had fallen in love with. He could handle that. He moved to rest on his knees, grabbing Sherlock by the waistband of his trousers and tugging him forward. "What are we going to do now? I am a bit sore." He pressed his nose against his husband's cheek.

Sherlock moved forward without resistance. "Whatever the hell we want?" He smirked down at his husband. He leaned down and gave John a quick kiss on the head. "We don't have to go back to the beach house if you don't want to. We can stay out here longer. Swim some more. We still have to shag in the water." His smirk returned.

John laughed softly, looking up at his husband. "Water is a bit deep, I think." One hand moved to squeeze his husband's ass. "We _might_ drown. Wouldn't want that." He took a deep breath and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, letting his eyes slip closed. "And you shouldn't swim out this deep. Not yet," he added softly. But it was their honeymoon, they could do whatever they wanted. It was just...with so much free time, he honestly didn't know what to do.

"We could wear those ridiculously bright orange life preservers." Sherlock wasn't sure if was joking or actually serious when he suggested that. "We will sail back for now. Didn't you say something back in London about wanting to eat pizza while we are here?" He leaned into John a bit, arms wrapping around his husband in a light hug. He rested his head on top of his partner's.

Oh, pizza. Pizza straight from Italy. John smirked slightly as his stomach growled at just the thought. "We could, yeah. No cooking for us which is always nice," he whispered into his husband's neck. It felt a bit weird for him to be completely naked and for Sherlock to be completely dressed but he fought it off and grinned. "This is a bit erotic, yeah?" He scratched gently at his husband's back. "You fully clothed, me naked and looking like I have just been shagged."

Sherlock smirked down at John. "You just like the friction." He brushed up against his husband a bit, so the fabric of his shirt would rub against John's chest and stomach. "Think I will eat today too. I haven't in the last couple days. What do you like on your pizza?" It didn't matter to him, because he was by no means a picky eater.

John shivered slightly and laughed. "Yeah, I do like that." He licked his lips and tired to hide his grin. Sherlock was going to eat. Perfect. "I...don't really know. Black olives, pepperoni." He placed a soft kiss on the side of his husband's neck. "Mushrooms. Onion." Another kiss as he relaxed further against his husband. "Don't care, though. I am just really hungry."

If they hadn't just shagged, Sherlock was certain he would be extremely turned on by the kisses on his neck. They felt wonderful. His husband was hungry though. "All right then." He kissed the top of John's head before releasing his husband from the hug. "I will get us back to land and we'll go to a pizzeria in town."

Why did he have to say he was hungry? John wanted to stay next to his husband, wrapped in his arms, for the rest of the day. "Fine," he whispered like a child, flopping back on to the bed with a playful groan. Better get dressed, it wouldn't do to stay naked for the rest of the day. He figured the people in the pizzeria wouldn't enjoy that too much. He grabbed the clothes from yesterday and dressed quickly, moving to the deck behind his husband with a small laugh. "We shagged on a boat."

Sherlock went back up to the deck and to the helm. He didn't start the yacht up right away though. He was trying to remember which way they had come from. Shit, he had forgotten. He took a brief moment to access his mind palace to retrace their last route. Good. He had it. He looked over to John with a smirk. "We did. And think, we are still going to shag in the water. In the shower. Give each other blow jobs with flavored lubricant. Break everything in the beach house. Hell, maybe I will even talk you into shagging in alley in town." The smirk got bigger. The last suggestion was almost as exciting to him as shagging John against the window at the flat. Which they still hadn't done yet, even though he wanted to badly.

John blushed at the suggestions and came up behind Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his husband's hips. "An alley in town?" He licked his hips and laughed softly at the thought. "Okay," he whispered with a small nod of his head. They had done so many different things so far. In two bathrooms, the plane...the _cargo hold_ of a plane. "Not much convincing but I will let you shag me in some alley." He grinned and pulled his husband closer. "So, do you know the way back?"

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" He smiled at John, pleased. Very pleased indeed. His smile twisted into a cocky smirk. "Of course I do." He hit the button to lift the anchor and once it was all the way up he turned the yacht around to go back where they had come. To help get the vessel going, he used the motor for awhile before cutting the engine and letting the wind catch the sail and float it back most of the way. It would take longer but it would conserve gas.

John laughed. "Yeah, really. We have done enough, might as well. Should we do that before or after we break the headboard?" He asked with a laugh as he tugged his husband closer and buried his face between Sherlock's shoulder blades. God, he was going to pay for this, wasn't he? Shagging in an alley. Sherlock had changed him a bit. Then again, he didn't really think that Sherlock would enjoy sex so much but he was learning a lot since they had been officially dating.

Sherlock smirked and then shrugged. "God, I would love to do it tonight but I don't know if we should shag again so soon after I was so rough with you this last time. In the middle of the day or at night?" They were really going to do this. Maybe by the time they got back to the flat, John wouldn't be so nervous about shagging against the window. He wasn't sure why he wanted it so much. As far as sexual fantasies went, he didn't really have many. Maybe it was because anytime they had agreed to it, the opportunity had escaped him. It was like a challenge now to make it happen, but it constantly stayed just beyond his grasp. He was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't been paying attention to where they were going and they jolted to a stop roughly. His head slammed into the steering wheel. Fuck. They had hit a sandbar.


	34. Chapter 34

John was watching his husband think everything through when he jolted forward into Sherlock, falling back on to the deck with a groan. "Ah, fuck." He sat up slowly, blinking several times before he looked at his husband. He had slammed his head. "Oi, Sherlock, you alright?" He stumbled to his feet and glanced over the edge before approaching his husband. "Shit. Shit." He licked his lips. "Sherlock? Are you okay?"

A trickle of blood blurred his vision a bit but Sherlock wiped it away quickly. "I am fine," he muttered. He probably had a concussion. His eyes had become a little more sensitive to the light, probably because they had dilated. So as not to worry John, he didn't turn to look at his husband. He wiped more blood from his eyes, as he tried to focus.

John noticed the blood almost instantly and turned his husband toward him. "C'mere." He yanked his shirt over his head with ease and rolled it up, placing it on the cut above his husband's eyebrow. "Right." He took a deep breath and studied Sherlock's eyes for a long moment. "Okay, you have done something to your head." His free hand ran gently down the side of his husband's face. "We need to get this thing off this sandbar," he muttered, lifting Sherlock's hand to hold the shirt as he moved to look over the side. The yacht was massive and he wasn't sure jumping in and pushing it back would work. Might as well try. He pulled his jeans down and kept his boxers on, looking at his husband. "Can you put it in reverse? I am going to try and push it. We might be able to move it, yeah?"

Sherlock was struggling to think straight and for a moment he just stared at John uncomprehendingly. Reverse. He could do that, right? He shifted his gaze down to the control panel. He was still holding the shirt in place and it seemed the only thing he was capable at the moment. He closed his eyes briefly and then shook his head. No, he couldn't sleep right now. He finally shifted the yacht into reverse.

John watched Sherlock for a moment and jumped over the edge into the water. He could barely touch the sandbar where he had landed and decided to swim forward. Near the front he could touch and he looked up. "Give it some gas!" He shouted up, pressing his hands against the front and using all of the power he had into forcing his body against the massive boat. He felt it budge slightly. "Sherlock! Gas!"

Sherlock's response time was getting worse and John shouting at him took a long moment to register. Gas? His free hand rubbed at his head. Concentrate. Focus. His husband needed him to do something. It seemed to be urgent. The words finally clicked in his unusually slow working mind. He gave the yacht gas, hopefully that had been what John had wanted. It was only the solution he could come up with. He was getting tired but he couldn't sleep right now. Someone needed to get them to the beach house and his husband didn't know how to sail.

The yacht shot backward and John fell forward into the water, resurfacing with a cough. Thank God it had at least stopped. He swam around the back and hoisted himself up the laddder, climbing on to the deck. "Right, c'mere." He killed the engine and grabbed Sherlock's hand. This situation was something he could handle, something he was used to...though, admittedly, not on this level. This was small compared to what he was trained to do. He squatted and picked his husband up in his arms, carrying him below deck with ease. "Lay here, don't move. Don't sleep." He put Sherlock on the bed, propping him against the small headboard before dashing back up the stairs. He dropped the anchor, made sure they weren't going to move, and moved back below deck. "Okay. Concussion. You took a hit." He moved into the small bathroom and grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it down and moving to sit beside his husband. "Here." He pulled the shirt away and replaced it with the wet cloth, cleaning up the blood with ease.

When had he gotten below deck? Sherlock didn't remember moving. Had John said something about not sleeping? But the bed was comfortable and he was having trouble keeping his eye open. He hissed when he felt the wet cloth against his head. Well, that certainly gave him a jolt. He squinted up at his husband and slurred out a barely intelligible word. "…'mfine…"

"Right. You are fine." John couldn't help but smirk slightly, shifting to sit behind his husband so he could rest on his chest. His boxers were soaked, so was he, and the sheets had massive wet spots. "What is your name?" He asked softly, placing a kiss on his husband's ear. Now all he had to do was keep Sherlock awake and talking. And answer questions in which he would probably get snappy.

Sherlock shivered a bit from the contact against John's wet body. "You're cold," he complained like a child. Ordinarily a question would make him grumpy but he took time to think about it seriously. He knew this one. Name. _His_ name. "Sherlock Holmes." He tried to tilt his head up to grin up at the man above him, like a child who had just answered a hard math question, but after moving so far he became dizzy and he dropped it back down.

"Good," John whispered with a bit of a smile. "Good job." He took a deep breath and pressed his nose against Sherlock's ear. "Where are we?" He asked softly as his free hand moved to rest at the center of his husband's stomach to hold him against John's body the best he could. This wasn't good. At this point they were going to be stuck out here for a while. At least they had brought some extra food.

"Big boat!" Sherlock replied excitedly. He knew that one and he didn't even have to think about it. He was getting better at this question game. He decided he liked it. Apparently the blow to the head had not only given him a concussion but it had shifted his personality somehow. He was still tired. "Sleep now?" He asked with a whine.

"Shit." John whispered, glancing around the small bedroom of the yacht. There had to be a phone somewhere. "Good," he whispered to Sherlock before shaking his. "But no sleep. You need to stay awake, okay? What is your brother's name?" He asked, relaxing marginally when he spotted a satellite phone a few feet from their position on the bed. Now all he had to figure out was who, exactly, to call with their problem.

"Want to sleep." Sherlock pouted for a moment before confusion crossed his features. Brother? Did he have a brother? Oh. Maybe this was one of those trick questions. No. Wait. He did have a brother. Always a smug bastard. He was quiet for awhile as he concentrated furiously. "Mycroft?" He giggled afterward. That was a silly name.

"Yep, Mycroft." John moved his hand across Sherlock's stomach and wrapped it gently around Sherlock's side. This was _definitely_ not good. Something more than a concussion had happened. Then again, they had jolted to a stop and Sherlock had slammed his head pretty hard. "What is your husband's name?" He asked with a small sigh. All he could do now was ask questions, see how much he remember and hopefully find out what happened.

Married? Okay, _that_ was a trick question. "I'm not married silly. Girls are yucky." Sherlock giggled some more. "When I grow up, I am going to be pirate. It is why I ran away on this big boat. To get away…" He whispered the last part as he trailed off. He curled into small ball and pressed into John for some comfort.

"Fuck." John let his head fall back for a moment and gently shook his husband. "No, Sherlock, don't sleep." He brought a leg up to push Sherlock's legs away from his chest and yanked him back up to sit down. "You can't sleep." He closed his eyes for a long moment. Nancy. He had to call Nancy. He glanced at the phone and stretched, reaching out to grab it before noticing a paper taped to the inside. Perfect. He hit the first speed-dial button and pressed the phone against his ear, pinching Sherlock's side with a slight grimace. He _had_ to keep him awake.

"Not sleeping!" Sherlock shouted and sat up quickly, a wave of dizziness hitting him. "Whoa…" He blinked as his world spun. "Just wanted a hug…" He pouted, his lower lip quivering. He turned his attention to John. He frowned a bit. He didn't recognize the man on the bed with him. The other man seemed familiar but he couldn't place a name with the face.

Nancy frowned as she looked at her caller ID. A call from the yacht phone? Why in heaven's name would Sherlock be calling her on his honeymoon? It must be important. She answered the call. "Hello? Sherlock honey, is everything okay?"

"Sherlock, calm down," John said softly before sighing in relief. "Oh, thank God, Nancy." He swallowed hard and covered the receiver with his hand. "Sherlock, just lay down. Like you were." He uncovered the receiver with a sigh. "Nancy, i-it's John. We were out on the yacht and...fuck, Nancy." He ran a hand down his face. "We hit a sandbar and Sherlock hit his head really hard on the wheel. I think...we have got a serious problem. What do I do?" He asked desperately.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out a John, crossed his arms and turned away to pout in silence. Adults were so boring. They never knew how to have any fun.

"My baby boy! Is he okay?" Nancy took a deep breath. She needed to calm down. "Did Sherlock use the GPS on the way out? If he did, you can use that to back track. Wait, John…do you even know how to sail at all?"

"Sherlock thinks," John paused. God, this was going to sound ridiculous. "Sherlock thinks he is a little boy again. Six, I am assuming, because earlier he told me he was going to grow up and be a pirate." He reached a hand out and gently shoved his husband's shoulder, shaking his head. "I don't know how to sail, no idea at all where the GPS is. I mean, we have got food for another two days, I think, but I need to get Sherlock to hospital or something. He has got more than a concussion."

"Mum?" Mycroft entered the room, his eyebrows furrowed. He had been upstairs rocking Amy to sleep when he noticed the caller ID on a phone upstairs. "Is everything alright?"

Sherlock twisted away from John's hand. "Leave me alone!" He scrambled off the bed and was about to run away, when his world spun again. He leaned against the wall for support, so he wouldn't fall down.

Nancy furrowed her brows as she digested what John said. She held up a finger to her oldest son to silence him. "John, by the helm there will be a radio. It should already be set on the emergency frequency, see if you can get a hold of anyone. If you are lucky, there will be a ship nearby to answer your distress call." She looked back to Mycroft, worry evident in her eyes.

"Right, Nancy, hold on." John set the phone down and stood up slowly. "Sherlock, back to bed. C'mon." He gently took his husband's hand and embraced him in a weak hug. He walked with Sherlock in his arms back to the phone, picking it up. "Okay, I need to run upstairs, Nancy." He looked at Sherlock for a moment. "Sherlock, want to talk to Mummy? Nancy, I am going to have you talk to him, keep him distracted, alright? I will be right back." He handed the phone gently to his husband, placed a kiss on his forehead, and darted upstairs.

Mycroft looked down at Amy, who twisted in his arms with a small noise of delight. "Mum?" He moved forward and sat next to her, shifting Amy into one arm and wrapping the other one around Nancy. "Are they alright?"

"Don't wanna!" Sherlock struggled against John but settled when he heard his mother mentioned. Mummy? He picked up the phone and stared at it in wonder. "Mummy! I am on a bit boat! A really big boat!"

Nancy felt her heart sink when she heard her youngest son speak. It was disconcerting to say the least. "Yes, I know sweetie. Try to be good for John. I have heard you yelling in the background." What was else should she say to him? She picked up a pen and scribbled a note to Mycroft explaining the situation.

John found the radio almost instantly, picking it up with a small sigh. "SOS. This is the yacht Holme-y." He felt like an idiot. "Emergency care needed as soon as possible. Adult male, thirty-six, head injury with possible memory loss or change. Medical knowledge on board but no medical supplies. GPS on, don't know exact coordinates but should be located with other GPS devices. I repeat, SOS, emergency care needed." He slammed the radio down and twisted on his feet, running back below deck. Good, still on the phone. He took it gently from Sherlock's hands. "Nancy, just sent out an SOS," he paused. "What do I do? I am scared," he admitted softly.

Mycroft read the note slowly and stood up, looking down at Amy as he grabbed his mobile from the front pocket of his trousers. He made a call as he left the room.

Sherlock rambled about random things to his mother excitedly. "Hey!" He reached to grab the phone back. "Humph. Rude." He turned away from John to pout, arms crossed over his chest again.

Nancy sighed in relief when she heard John's voice. She wasn't sure how much longer she could have listened to Sherlock going on like that. It was heart breaking. "Everything will be fine. Mycroft just made a phone call. Help should be there soon sweetie. No worries. I will stay on the phone with you, if you would like."

"Sherlock, sit on the bed," John begged in a soft tone, closing his eyes for a long moment. "Nancy, thank you." He licked his lips and managed a nervous, stressful laugh. "I am so sorry. I just...you were the first person I thought of when I saw the phone." He sighed and sat on the mattress, looking up at his husband. "I just don't know what to do."

Mycroft returned to the room with a happily squealing Amy, looking at his Mum with a tight smile. "Five minutes and a rescue boat should be there," he said softly, his gaze traveling to the happy child in his arms.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Sherlock yelled obstinately, but he stayed on the bed anyway. Mainly because it made him dizzy if he moved too much and not out of compliance.

"You are fine dear." Nancy looked up to her oldest son when he came back into the room. She gave him a smile, pleased with him. "Mycroft says help should be there in five minutes. Everything will work out. You will see."

"We'll probably be home after this. I don't think we can really celebrate our honeymoon with Sherlock coming off of massive head trauma," John replied with the best smile he could, even though Nancy couldn't see it. He had to stay positive or he would end up failing his husband. "I am so sorry, Nancy." He repeated as he buried his face in his free hand. "I shouldn't have been distracting him. This is my fault. We were talking about sha-" he cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have distracted him." He finished quickly.

"Oh John…" Nancy trailed off. Nothing seemed to go right for these boys. "You should try to stay, or at least talk to Sherlock about. You know, when he is…him again." She cleared her throat. "Don't blame yourself. Sherlock should have been paying attention. It was reckless of him not to. He is just like his father, I swear."

John tugged his bottom lip in his mouth. Oh, Nancy. A beacon of light. "Maybe. I think he hates me now, to be honest." He laughed softly and sat up straight when he heard the sound of another boat and a siren. "Nancy, got to go. The emergency boat is here. Thank you, Mum. Love you." He shoved the phone back on the receiver and darted up the stairs to meet a paramedic who had already climbed on to the yacht. "Downstairs," he muttered.

The young man moved down the stairs behind John and crouched in front of Sherlock with a smile. "Hiya, Sherlock," he said brightly, smiling. "How are you today?" He asked as he put a blood pressure cuff on the man's arm.

Nancy sighed as she hung up the phone. Everything would be all right. It had to be. She needed to find something to preoccupy her mind so she wouldn't be sick with worry.

"Pirates have boarded!" Sherlock shrieked. "Get off our boat!" He squirmed against the cuff on his arm. "Git off me!" He reached over to claw at John's hand, hoping the other man would help him fight off the bandit who was after him.

John moved instantly to sit behind Sherlock, grabbing his free hand. "Hey, shh." He placed a soft kissed behind Sherlock's ear. "Calm down, Sherlock. They aren't pirates, they are here to help us," he whispered. "Sorry," he said with a weak smile.

"Not a problem." The young man stood up and inspected Sherlock's forehead for a moment before motioning to the other paramedic. "Head trauma. Get a room set up, MRI. Priority. Called in by Mycroft." He smiled as the other turned and headed up the stairs, talking into a radio. "Right, Sherlock, we have got to get you to safety before the real pirates show up. Do you want to come upstairs with me?"

Sherlock calmed down, linking his arm around John's. His free hand came up to his mouth and he began sucking on his thumb nervously. Mycroft? That was his brother. How did they know his older sibling? He looked up at the other man with wide eyes. "Can he come?" He asked around his thumb, as he tugged at the hand he held. He felt safer with John around and didn't want to go anywhere without him.

The paramedic smiled and nodded. "Of course, Sherlock." He looked at John, his smile still there. "Want to carry him upstairs?"

John nodded and placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Right, Sherlock." He moved to stand in front of his husband. "We are going to go upstairs and I know how dizzy you are so I am going to carry you, okay?" He picked his husband up easily, cradling Sherlock in his arms as he went up the stairs and stepped easily on to the rescue boat. "How are you feeling?" He asked with a soft smile.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck. "Getting sleepy again," he admitted. He wanted to stay up and see all the new exciting things that were going on. "Don't want to sleep. Want to stay awake with the adults. Don't make me go to bed." He whined, as he began pulling at John's shirt desperately.

"You don't have to go to bed, Sherlock." John smiled down at him warmly. "Stay awake and you will get some waffles and syrup. Promise." He looked up at the paramedic as he pushed a gurney forward. "Lay down for me and be good, alright?" He laid his husband down with a weak smile, running a hand through his hair.

"We are going to get him to the hospital right away. They're going to take care of him from there." The young man smiled and gently took Sherlock's hand. John took the other and held on to him tight as the boat started. "We have people on the way to take your yacht back to the boat house," he told John softly.

"No! No bed! You lied!" Sherlock sniffled, and shoved his thumb back in his mouth. He glared at John and then turned away. He grumbled some more but laid down finally. "Not sleeping!" He protested loudly. But he was so tired. Maybe a nap would make him feel better. No. He wasn't going to let John trick him into sleeping.

"Just laying down," John said with a small frown. "I didn't say you had to sleep, did I? Just relax, Sherlock." He squeezed his husband's hand and closed his eyes for a long moment. He couldn't handle this. _This_ wasn't his husband. "Please, Sherlock, don't do this," he whispered as he dropped his head against his husband's arm.

"We should be there fairly soon, Doctor Watson," the young man said with a bit of a frown himself. "I will come and get you when we have arrived."

Sherlock frowned, his thumb falling out his mouth. He turned to look at John, studying him with an intense gaze. "Don't be sad. I'm sorry." He dropped his gaze. "Please don't be mad. I'll be good. You aren't going to make me go home are you? I don't want to go home…" He trailed off as he shoved his thumb back in his mouth. Instead of sucking on it though, he began biting on it nervously.

What scared him most was this might have been Sherlock's childhood, might have been things he was really afraid of. Going home, being with his family. It twisted his gut. "No, you are fine. You didn't do anything wrong." He lifted his head and managed to smile, running a hand through Sherlock's hair again. "You are fine," he whispered as he took a deep breath. "Oi, don't suck on your thumb." He managed to laugh, pulling it from his husband's mouth.

Sherlock nodded but when John pulled his thumb out his mouth he visibly flinched. "Sorry," he mumbled. His hands dropped into his lap and he began fidgeting with them. He didn't like feeling scared, but he didn't have his teddy bear to protect him right now. He crawled closer to John and curled into the other man's chest tightly.

John closed his eyes for a long moment and embraced his husband. "You are fine. Bad habit, that's all." He smiled and ran his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock's back. The boat slowed down and the paramedic came back into view with a soft smile. "How about we go get you those waffles and syrup?" He whispered into Sherlock's hair with a weak smile as he slowly picked him up and carried him off the boat, following the paramedics with ease.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck again. "Don't wanna eat," Sherlock muttered into John's shoulder. It was getting harder to stay awake now. He nuzzled into John's neck, letting his eyes slip closed finally. "Gonna be good and nap now," he said sleepily as the grip around the neck weakened.

They were close enough to the hospital that John figured Sherlock could sleep for a bit. People inside would know what to do better than him. When they entered he was surrounded by nurses and a doctor who told him where to take his husband and he listened, moving into a room where nurses instantly started to wake Sherlock up as gently as they could.

"Sherlock," one of the women smiled softly at him and shook his arm. "Sherlock, honey, wake up. We need to ask you some questions." John sighed and fell into the chair beside Sherlock's bed, burying his face in his hands.


	35. Chapter 35

Sherlock didn't wake up right away. They took him to a room to get a MRI and then returned him to the room John was waiting in. Sherlock groaned as a nurse attempted to wake him up again. Christ his head hurt. Yacht. Sand bar. Fuck. Right. He had hit his head. Everything was fuzzy after that. Where was he now? A hospital? "I will be fine. Just…no drugs. For the love God, don't give me anything for the pain." John. Was his husband okay? He searched the room frantically for the other man.

That...was definitely his husband. John's head shot up and he shot from his chair. "No drugs," he said almost instantly. "He is recovering. No drugs," he said as he moved to face Sherlock. "Oh, God, are you alright?" He framed his husband's face with his hands, struggling to keep himself calm. "Sherlock." He closed his eyes for a long moment and smiled. "You sucked your thumb when you were younger?" He asked with a soft laugh as the nurse hooked him up to an I-V.

"Just a saline solution to keep you hydrated," the nurse said before turning and leaving.

Relief flooded him. "John, you are okay." Sherlock reached out a hand to stroke his husband's face. "I should be fine. I have a headache and pain medication would be wonderful which is why I shouldn't have it." He grimaced as he forced himself to sit up slightly. Suck his thumb? "Maybe. Probably. I don't know. Why?" He creased his brows in confusion at the strange question.

"You don't remember anything?" John smirked softly and placed a hand on his husband's chest. "You knocked yourself back into your childhood, Sherlock. I was so fucking scared." He closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment. "You sucked your thumb, told me you were a pirate." He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his chest. "Told the paramedics _they_ were pirates." He opened his eyes and smiled softly. "But you are back."

"That…was real? I thought it had been some sort of crazy dream…I remember fragments but not everything fully." Sherlock moved his hand to John's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention while I was steering the yacht. It was a stupid, rookie mistake. I didn't mean to worry you. How long have I been at the hospital?"

"Not very long," John replied softly, a smile still plastered on his face. "But yeah, all real." He leaned forward and gently met Sherlock's lips, not caring who saw. For a moment Sherlock hadn't known that John was his husband and it had twisted his stomach horribly. "It is fine," he whispered against his husband's lips. "It's fine," he repeated with a small sigh. He laughed and opened his eyes. "I should probably call your Mum. She is worried."

"Do you think they will let me leave soon? I am so tired of hospitals and we are supposed to be on our honeymoon…" Sherlock was angry with himself now and he slunk back down into the bed with a pout. His mother. Hadn't he talked to her on the phone? It was hard to try and remember. He nodded his head at John, though he was thinking furiously, losing himself in his own thoughts.

John watched Sherlock for a moment and frowned. He didn't want to tell him that they would probably be here over night because it was a head injury. "Want me to snuggle with you?" He didn't wait for an answer as he climbed on to the bed, pulling Sherlock's head against his chest as he ran a hand through his hair. "Calm down. It is fine," he whispered as he placed a kiss in his husband's unruly curls. "You are fine."

Sherlock snuggled into John immediately. "You are a doctor. Can't you convince you will watch me?" The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night in a hospital. "I owe you a pizza still and a lot of sex." He gave his husband a slight smirk. "I'm sorry that I have made a mess of things but I promise, I'll spend the rest of the honeymoon making it up to you."

"God, pizza and a lot of sex." John laughed and tugged his husband closer. "It's fine, Sherlock. Stuff like this happens. We just...got a bit of bad luck. A lot of it." He licked his lips and shrugged. "I am fine, alright? And you will be better. We'll just continue the honeymoon the way we have been." He lifted Sherlock's head slightly and gave him a soft kiss, smiling against his husband's lips. "I love you."

Sherlock smirked faintly at John's words. He returned the kiss gently. "Love you too." He paused before asking, "Do you think it is safe for me to sleep? I have got one hell of a headache and with the refusal of the pain medication I am hoping that maybe I can sleep it off." He shifted slightly, so he could snuggle closer to his husband even more.

John bit his bottom lip and frowned slightly at his husband. "I don't think so. You took a nasty hit, Sherlock." He gave his husband another quick kiss. "Here, sit up a bit." He shifted and put his fingers at his husband's temples, rubbing soft circles. It had worked in Afghanistan, why not work now? He closed his eyes and relaxed, hoping it would rub off on Sherlock. "We can stay up. Talk about little things. Just don't sleep."

Sherlock frowned but nodded anyway. He relaxed into John's touch. It felt wonderful. "I know you are trying to help my dear doctor and you are but this may relax me to the point of falling asleep anyway." He moved his head so he could smirk up at his husband.

"Fall asleep and I will pinch the back of your arm," John threatened with a laugh. He moved his hands away slowly and placed a soft kiss on the tip of Sherlock's nose. "I think the paramedic was judging me," he whispered as he grabbed one of his husband's hands and laced their fingers together. "Because the cabin reeked of grape lube," he said with a small giggle as a blush spread across his cheeks.

"Are you sure it wasn't because of the stains all over the bed sheets?" Sherlock smirked up at his husband once more. He was quiet a thoughtful moment after that and when he spoke again his tone was serious. "John, can we talk?" Maybe now wasn't the best time but there had been a few things he had wanted to discuss with his husband but John had said he should try and stay awake by talking so might as well do it now.

Those words were almost never good. John tried to hide the fear on his face but he knew he was pale now. God, what could it be? Was Sherlock regretting this? Did he want out? "Yeah, of course," he finally said, noticing the slight tremor in his voice. Calm. Deep breaths. Everything would be fine.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, when he noticed John's body language and tone of voice. "We don't have to. It doesn't matter, not really…" He trailed off with a shrug. It wasn't important he supposed but he had promised his husband to work on communication and that was he had been trying to do...to talk about things.

John's eyes opened instantly. "No, Sherlock, we agreed to talk and communicate. Go on." He managed a warm smile in his husband's direction. Sherlock was making an effort, and he couldn't ruin that. "You are fine. Talk to me." He moved his free hand up to rest gently on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock nodded but he was quiet for awhile. "I don't know. I was just thinking about how I grew up and I just don't want little Sandi to have to go through that too. I have my father's temper. I don't want to be him." He paused and then admitted quietly, "John, I'm scared." He curled into his husband a bit, his head snuggling into John's chest.

Oh. _Oh._ John looked down at his husband with wide eyes and instantly tightened his embrace. "You aren't him," he said softly into Sherlock's hair. "Oh, God...Sherlock, you are far from him. Look at how well you have done so far with Amy." He started gently scratching the back of Sherlock's neck. "Sherlock, you are going to be fine. You've already made a wonderful father for her. That night at your Mum's? Remember that? You got up in the middle of the night and fed her, played with that blasted lamp and took her on a walk in the garden. Would your father do that for you?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, dreading what he was going to say next. "John, when you were kidnapped in Afghanistan. I was stressed. Little Sandi was crying and I got angry. I wanted to shake her so hard to make it stop. I didn't but God I wanted to. What if next time, I don't stop myself?" Would his husband hate him now? Trust him with Amy ever again?

John closed his eyes for a long moment and pulled his husband closer without a second thought. "I trust you," he whispered shakily. God, he never wanted to hear that. "Sherlock, you know right from wrong and you stopped yourself. I know that you would never do that." Or at least he hoped. Prayed. Sherlock had known when to stop when things got too rough with them, shouldn't it apply to their daughter? "I know you love her, Sherlock. The last few times she has been crying you have known exactly what to do." What else did he say? All he knew was he needed to comfort his husband.

Sherlock didn't have anything else to say now. He just curled into John in silence, arms wrapping around his husband in a tight hug. He held onto his partner like that for awhile before releasing John. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, but I thought…you had a right to know what you were getting into with me…"

John studied Sherlock and finally had to look away. "It isn't fair to you," he whispered. "It never was. I was a jerk and...slept with Sarah. Sherlock, _I_ got you into this. And you stepped up and took Amy in like she was your own. I am not getting into _anything_ with you because it was all me. It was me being selfish and assuming that you would want to do all of this." He hesitantly met his husband's gaze. "And you're doing so fantastic. I couldn't have asked for a better parent for her."

Sherlock gave John another hug. "It's fine. We're fine. We will be fine." He had to believe that. They had come so far after everything that had happened to them. "Like all the other stuff, we will get through it together." He gave his husband a smile and relaxed into the body next to him. He intertwined their fingers and gave John's hand a gentle squeeze.

John pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it. "I know," he whispered, returning the squeeze. "We will. Sherlock, we have already made it through so much. Raising a kid...we can do this." He managed a weak smile and let his eyes close. "We are going to raise her the best we can. It is the least we can do. And honestly?" He opened his eyes again and grinned. "She has got the best _Papa_ ever. Look at you." He pulled Sherlock closer. "You're the perfect father."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk up at John. "Well, I am perfect and amazing it already. So why not being a father?" Cocky and confident. That was something he could do. He wasn't used to feeling scared and he didn't like it. Going back to what was normal brought him comfort. "We will be the best damn fathers ever."

John laughed and tugged his husband closer with a foolish grin. "Yeah, exactly. Everybody is going to be jealous of Amy," he said with another loud laugh. "And she is going to be the most adorable little girl on the face of the planet." He paused and pressed the tip of his nose against Sherlock's. "And, I imagine, the most spoiled. Ever." He gave his husband a quick kiss. "I am proud of you."

Sherlock smirked at John once more. "Of course you are. I'm the perfect husband and father." He rolled so he could straddle his husband. "Love you," he whispered as he leaned down to kiss John on the lips gently. He continued the kiss, enjoying the slow pace of it. His fingers ran along his husband's sides, brushing the fabric lightly.

John didn't force the issue or tell his husband that he should be laying down. He simply opened his mouth to his husband's advances, arching slightly off the bed at his touch. He moved the cord to the I-V slightly so it wouldn't be in the way and moaned. "Love you, too," he whispered as he pulled away slightly to catch a breath before quickly moving to kiss Sherlock again.

Sherlock had forgotten about the I-V hooked up to him until John moved it. He smirked down at his husband. "Want to shag in a hospital again?" He asked behind the second kiss. He moved his lips to John's ear where he began to lick and nibble. He wanted his husband now and he pressed his body tightly into the man below him.

At some point John had a feeling that his husband had cataloged every little thing that made him gasp and squirm and beg for more. He moaned slightly and pressed into Sherlock in return, nodding a bit. "Yes," he whimpered, ending it in a gasp. "Oh God, yes." His hands moved instantly to Sherlock's shoulder blades, scratching slightly. Of course they would shag in a hospital. They always ended up here, it was only natural.

Sherlock smirked, pleased. He growled in excitement from the scratching. "Need something," he whispered into John's ear. He wanted, _needed_ this to happen. He moved his lips to his husband's neck and began to suck and bite. He writhed into the man below him roughly, moaning into John's neck with desire.

"Good thing we are in a hospital," John said sarcastically. "Oi, let me up. I will find something." He glanced at his husband for a moment. "Are you are the receiving end this time? Because there is no need for you to be so pushy if you are," he said with a proud smile. Shit, was Sherlock even ready to do something so demanding? He knew he was because his erection was pressing eagerly against the moving body above him.

Sherlock was a bit surprised by John's erection, since his husband had already gotten off twice today. This would be good. "Can't wait for you to be inside of me," he whispered. He would even beg. John always liked that. "Please?" He rolled off his husband so John could get some kind of lubrication for them to use.

John moaned at Sherlock's words and slid off the bed with a small stumble. "Right." He moved toward the small sink on the opposite side of the room, searching the cabinets with one hand while he undid his jeans with the other. He returned the bed with three small packets of Vaseline. "God bless hospitals," he said with a grin as he moved back on the bed, laying on his back. "Easier this way for you." He grunted as he yanked his jeans down to his knees, dropped the Vaseline packets on the bed, and yanked at his husband's hips to straddle him again.

Sherlock fumbled with his pants in excitement but had them down by the time John returned to the bed. He straddled his husband once more. He bent down to kiss on John's ear yet again. "Want you. Please," he begged again. "Love when you are inside." He nibbled on his husband's ear lightly, rocking his body into the man below him with earnest.

Sherlock talking alone could get him off. "Jesus." John moved one hand to hold his husband's hips still with a soft moan. He used his other hand to bring a packet of Vaseline to his teeth, ripping it open. "Don't move," he said with a pant. "Want me to last, don't you?" His hand moved slowly from Sherlock's hip and he got Vaseline on his fingers, moving to slowly work two into his husband. "God, yes, you feel great." He closed his eyes and slammed his head back on the mattress.

Sherlock complied with John's request and settled for nestling his head near his husband's. "Sorry, get excited easily." He turned his head to smirk at John. As soon as he felt his husband's fingers enter he moaned into the sheets. Probably should be a little quieter. He didn't want a hospital staffer to come and stop them. "Love you inside me," he whispered into John's ear again and then nipped lightly at the lobe. He brought a hand up to run through his husband's hair lightly, the other tangled in the sheets below them.

John smiled as Sherlock spoke, keeping his eyes closed at his husband's hand in his hair. He turned his head to gently meet Sherlock's lips. "Can't wait to shag you," his hips lifted slightly in emphasis and tugged his husband's bottom lip between his teeth. "Shit," he gasped and started to move his fingers faster.

Sherlock returned the kiss and then whimpered into the sheets, biting down into them to prevent his noises from being heard outside the room. It wasn't that he was suddenly modest, he just didn't want any interruptions. "Feels good. Want you. Please." He turned his head to whisper in his husband's ear. He kissed along John's neck lightly, the hand in his husband's hair following the trail of his mouth softly.

The begging was what drove John. Hearing Sherlock ask something of him so desperately turned him on. He pulled his fingers out and opened the second pack if Vaseline, smearing it into his hand and reaching between them to stroke his cock. After he was ready, he grabbed Sherlock's hips, meeting his husband's lips as he lifted his hips and slowly entered Sherlock.

Sherlock moaned into John's mouth when he felt his husband enter him. "God yes," he murmured behind the kiss. His eyes closed in contentment, his fingers curling into the sheets a little tighter. "Love you, love this." He knew John liked it when he talked when they made love like this. He opened his eyes so he could look down at his husband, his hand still trailing along John's face lightly.

John opened his mouth, looking up at his husband through hooded eyes as he started a gentle rhythm. Why couldn't he think of anything to say? He turned his head to place a soft kiss on his husband's palm, moaning into it as loud as he dared so they wouldn't get caught. "L-Love you, too," he gasped out, turning his head to hold Sherlock's gaze. This was obviously more than just a shag. They had shared an emotionally charged conversation and here they were. "God, you feel fucking wonderful."

Sherlock matched John's slow tempo with ease. He leaned down and began showering his husband's neck with small, gentle kisses again. His hand moved back up to John's head, scratching at the bristles lightly. After having been rough the last few times, this was a nice change of pace. "This is amazing. You are amazing," he whispered into John's neck as he continued the tender kissing.

John turned his head, moaning against Sherlock's temple. "You need to tell me..." His hips hitched up and he stilled for a moment, inhaling loudly before he slowly started moving again. "I-If you need to stop." He moved a hand to rest on the small of his husband's back, scratching at it gently. After several more thrusts he stilled, moving a hand to lift Sherlock's head up. "I love you and I hope you know that." He managed a lop-sided smile. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you." He gently kissed his husband as his hips started to move again.

Stop? Why would he want to stop? Okay, sure he had a concussion and his head was pounding but everything else was feeling so wonderful. It was almost enough to make him forget he had to spend a day in the hospital on his honeymoon. "...'sfine..." Sherlock gave John a reassuring smile and returned the kiss, nipping lightly at his husband's bottom lip.

Fine. It was fine. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and slowed his pace slightly. He needed to make sure his husband was still alright, wasn't about to pass out on him. "I love you," he whispered as his hand massaged the muscles at his husband's lower back. "Ah, fuck, Sherlock," his voice was a bit higher than he intended and he blushed.

"Love you too," Sherlock replied as smiled down at John. His hand caressed his husband's cheek, as he continued to match the pace set by the man below him. His smile turned into a smirk when John blushed. Despite how shy his husband was about others being around when they shagged, they sure did do it a lot in public places lately.

John pressed his cheek into his husband's hand, breathing hard to try and force back his moans. "Ah, Sh-" He hissed and moved his hands to Sherlock's hips, bringing his husband down roughly against him as he came. It was sudden but he knew it wouldn't last very long. It had been a long day for him. "God, oh God." He swallowed hard and moved a hand to grab Sherlock's penis, stroking it with quick, tight movements.

Sherlock bit down into the pillow below John's head, to muffle the loud moan that was issued from his husband's final thrust. He moaned some more when the man below him grabbed his cock. "John…" He rocked his body in time with his husband's hand. His hand on John's face dropped to the mattress to tangle in the sheets.

Shit, John should have pulled out of Sherlock because each movement his husband made into his hand was tugging at his over-sensitive cock. His hand slowed down to alleviate Sherlock's movements, soft grunts escaping his chest as he tried to quiet himself. "C'mon, Sherlock. Want to see you come," he whispered. When had he started talking like that?

Sherlock didn't last too long and he came with another moan into the pillow. He collapsed slightly to one side of John, breathing heavily. Good thing he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor because it would have given them away long ago. He closed his eyes. Shit. He was tired, but he wasn't allowed to sleep yet. He tried to think of something to distract his weariness but he was losing the battle to stay awake.

John dropped his hand to his side and cleaned it off on the sheets. "Hey, c'mon, wake up." He rolled slightly to the side and gently met his husband's lips. "Just a few more hours and then you can sleep for the nigh." He lifted his clean hand to run through Sherlock's hair. "Sherlock," he whispered as he pressed their noses together.

"Trying," Sherlock muttered but his eyes didn't open. He leaned into John's hand with a murmur of approval. It was relaxing. "As much as I love the feel of your hand in my hair, it isn't really helping me stay awake." He smirked a bit at his husband. He managed to crack an eye open to look at John. "Tell me another story." He shifted a bit so he could nuzzle his head into his husband's shoulder.

John gently moved his hand from Sherlock's hair, smiling down at him warmly. "I am horrid at stories, Sherlock." He laughed and shifted to run his hand gently up and down his husband's arm. "One day pirate Sherlock and John found a kitten on their pirate ship and decided to turn her into a pirate," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. "And the cat got into all of their food and ate it." He paused and bit his bottom lip, trying to decided to go with his story.

Sherlock wrapped both his arms around John's one arm, and snuggled into the shoulder even more. So comfortable. No sleeping. Pay attention to the story, to his husband's words. "A pirate kitten?" He couldn't help but smirk faintly at the thought. "Does the pirate kitten have a name? Better yet, an eye patch?" He couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Of course she has an eye patch," John whispered with a laugh of his own. "And her name is... Janet. Pirate John named her after his mother. And Janet helped Pirate Sherlock around the boat." He placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "And one day Pirate Sherlock got scared because he found a mouse on board and Janet saved him by attacking the mouse."

Sherlock snorted. "Pirate Sherlock was afraid of a mouse? Some pirate he must have turned out to be," he commented with a wry smirk. Damn it. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake. "Maybe I should get up and walk around. Snuggling like this is making it difficult." He didn't want to get up though. "Tired." He wasn't trying to whine but shit his head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it and sleep seemed to be the only thing that would make it go away.

"Let's do that," John said with a nod, sliding out of the bed and moving around to help Sherlock to his feet. "Pirate Sherlock was a fantastic pirate but mice can be scary," he said as they started pacing the hospital room. "How does your head feel?" He studied Sherlock intently. Clearly his husband was in pain, trying to hide it. "I can get you something that will keep you awake."

Fuck. Sherlock regretted suggesting getting out of bed. His eyes opened and he got up with John's help. "I am fine." He gave his husband a small smile of reassurance. "It hurts a little but no big deal. I've had a concussion before." He gave a slight shrug, grimacing when it agitated the wound on his head.

"I know but this is a bit more than a concussion, Sherlock." John slowed down and held on to his husband a little tighter. "You smashed your head and reverted back to a child-like state. Obviously a bit worrying." He placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's cheek as they continued to walk. "I think we will have to keep some ice on it when we are back at the beach house."

"Why do you think that is? I mean it can't be common reoccurrence, is it? I have never heard or read anything about it before." Sherlock walked along with John. He hadn't realized how much he was leaning into his husband for support until he felt their shoulders brush against each other. He hated being like this. Not even their honeymoon could go right it would seem.

"I don't know," John replied honestly. "Perhaps you have a bit of a knack for getting odd head injuries after losing your memory when I was in Afghanistan." He smiled up at Sherlock reassuringly. "You are fine. You've got this." He rubbed his fingers gently at his husband's side, scratching against his ribs. "This is fine." He turned them as they started the trek to the other side of the room. "Just being with you is enough."

"I guess. I really thought it had been some weird dream. And when I came to at the hospital it was like I was waking up from it." Sherlock continued to follow his husband around the room. At this point, he was wishing he had accepted the pain killers but he couldn't risk it. John had already had to deal with his drug withdrawals and he wasn't going to make his husband endure that ever again. Especially not on their honeymoon.

"You will need to call your Mum at some point," John replied softly as he led Sherlock back to the bed, moving him to sit down. "Do you want me to see if you can sleep for a little? I am sure they can monitor you, let you sleep." He studied his husband nervously. This wasn't good, he was in pain and John could barely stand it. "Is that alright with you?"

Ugh. Sherlock didn't want to have to talk to his mother right now. "Would it be all right if I call her tomorrow?" Yes. Sleep would be glorious. "Please. God, I have never wanted to sleep so badly before in my life." He gave John a slight smirk, trying to reassure his husband. He made his way back over to the bed and climbed under the covers.

"I'll call her for you," John said with a laugh, moving to grab a nurse and talk to her. He returned quickly. "Alright, off to sleep with you," he muttered, placing a kiss on his forehead. "You are fine for the next two hours and then I will wake you up." After a warm smile he moved into the main area outside of his husband's room. "Um, the number for the... Holmes?" She smiled and handed him a phone that was already ringing.

Sherlock smiled at John. Good. Sleep. As soon as his eyes closed he fell asleep. Sleep would let him find a place where there was no pounding pain in his head.


	36. Chapter 36

Nancy had been waiting by the phone for the call expectantly. When it rang and the caller ID indicated a number out of Italy she answered the phone immediately. "John?" Last she knew her youngest son had reverted back to childhood. She was worried and it was expressed in her tone of voice.

John smiled. "Hi Mum." He leaned against the counter of the nurses' station. "Sherlock's good, back to himself." He glanced into the room through the slightly open door. "Bit of a headache and a concussion but he is good. Sleeping it off right now. Are you alright?" He knew that his mother-in-law had been worried and he wanted to do anything he could to make sure she was doing better.

Relief flooded Nancy immediately. "Good. I am glad." She had finally been finding closure on her husband's death and then this happened. Would she be able to not worry about Sherlock for even a little while? "Amy is doing well. She can almost support her head now. When you two get back, she probably will be able to. You are going to stay aren't you? You should."

Amy. John's daughter. He grinned like an idiot. "She can? Oh, goodness." He laughed a bit and closed his eyes. She was growing up faster than he thought. "She is not keeping you up with her screeching? I am afraid she's a bit loud. Not sure who she got that from." He looked around the hospital and cleared his throat. Stay. God, if they stayed he risked something else happening. "I don't know. Sherlock wants to but I am worried about him. I want to take care of him before we...do anything again."

"She gets a little fussy from time to time, but we take turns trying to put her down. Me, Mycroft and Greg. Even Mrs. Hudson comes over from time to time to help." Nancy smiled even though John wasn't there to see it. "Well, you two should talk about it." She couldn't help but laugh. "Knowing you two, you probably already have. Well, if what Mycroft said about you two being in the hospital in Egypt holds any water that is."

John turned a deep shade of red at Nancy's comment. Oh joy. She knew. "I...yes- I mean _no._ " He took a deep breath and shook his head. "W-We have talked, I mean. I mean... we have...oh, God." He buried his face in his hand and groaned. "Nancy, I'm sorry. Sorry." He laughed nervously. This wasn't going very well. Nancy probably hated him now. Or probably not because the Holmes seemed to be a bit open about their sexual experiences.

Nancy couldn't help but laugh loudly as John stumbled over his words. "So you have." She beamed proudly. "Well then, there is no reason for you not to stay. Have you tried the flavored lubrication I had left? What about the book I gave Sherlock, is he reading it? Does he like it?" She was anxious to hear all about how their honeymoon was going.

Were they _really_ talking about this right now? John cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Um. T-The flavored lube." He blushed as a nurse walked by, giving him an odd look. "Right. Yes. Once. N-Not for... _that,_ but we did use it. Grape," he muttered. Should he lie to her about the book? He hesitated before continuing. "Um, he tried the book but didn't e-enjoy it. He _did_ try to tie me to the mast, though." Jesus, did he just say that?

"Good! You boys are enjoying yourselves then. If you stay, maybe Sherlock will get the chance to do that." Nancy frowned a bit when she heard about the book. "Oh well, I guess it isn't for everybody. I thought maybe he would like it, considering all the escapades you two like to do. It reminds me of Siger and I when we were young and first married."

Okay. There had to be a line somewhere and thinking about his mother-in-law and Siger was certainly that line. That made John shift nervously on his feet. She knew about their sexual escapades...how in the world did she find out? He was fairly sure Sherlock wasn't blabbing to her about it. Might as well go along with it. "Er, yes. Well..." He took a deep breath. "Your son is rather creative, Nancy. I c-can assure you that he has had me in some wonderful positions...oh, God, I am sorry. I'm so sorry."

Nancy erupted into laughter once more, rather delighted with this conversation. "No need to apologize John. You are fine dear. I'm glad you two make each other happy. It is good you are sexually compatible. Obviously shagging isn't the most important part of a relationship but if you two didn't fit intimately you probably wouldn't last long."

John figured that at some point he would have had this relationship with his Mum and that Nancy never really got to have it with Sherlock. They were an oddly perfect match at the moment. "We have that department covered, I assure you," he mumbled into the phone with a small smile. "I have...got a question, though..." He looked around to make sure no nurses were in proximity to hear his question. "Why _flavored_ lube, Mum?"

"Oh um." Nancy cleared her throat and looked around the sitting room to make sure she was alone, not realizing she had just mirrored John's actions. "It was Mycroft's suggestion. Apparently it works well for him and Greg. He thought you two might like it as well. Ssshhh, he didn't want you to know though. It will be our secret, okay?"

Oh God. John turned away from the phone a moment and tried to control himself. "Right. Okay." He took a deep breath and pressed the phone against his ear again. "Well, Sherlock and I decided mutually to not use it for...certain things. But I think Sherlock likes it." He smiled the best he could, trying to push the blush off of his cheeks. It was odd but he was feeling...comfortable. "We have tried...condoms. Ribbed," he muttered. Shit, this was a bad idea. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Well good for you. You want to make sure you both are on the same page before you try something you haven't done before." Nancy's eyebrows shot up in surprise at John's last comment. "Sweetie, quit apologizing. It is fine, you hear? They are wonderful, aren't they? Siger didn't like using condoms but every once in awhile I could talk him into it."

John winced. Only fair, he reminded himself. Nancy was hearing about his sex life. Be fair. "Nancy, it was amazing," he admitted eagerly. "I don't think Sherlock likes them so much but, God." He leaned against the counter and laughed weakly. He was having this conversation with _Nancy_. Sherlock was going to kill him when he found out, wasn't he? "Did you ever talk to Sherlock about...our sex life?"

"No. Sherlock said you were shy about that kind of thing and he didn't want to upset you. So, I am kind of surprised we are having this conversation." Nancy paused; she didn't want to say it'd been Mycroft. At the time she was certain her eldest son was just trying to get his younger sibling in trouble. Those two were constantly competing for her love and attention. Even more so with Siger gone. "Siger had the sex talk with Sherlock when he was young, but he had said that Sherlock wasn't interested at all."

John nodded slightly and lowered his head, listening to Nancy for a moment. "I consider you my Mum, really," he admitted with a bit of a shrug. "I'm sure I would have had the conversation with her, y'know? So...here I am with you." He shifted on his feet. God, had he ruined the entire thing? Move on. "Sherlock wasn't really interested in sex until I gave him a hand job on the couch." He froze and let his eyes go wide. "I...shouldn't have told you that."

Nancy smiled. "You are a good boy John. You are just like a son to me." Her smile broadened. "At least you didn't apologize," she playfully admonished. "Well, I guess he just needed the right person to make him change his mind." She was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "He was always such a sad child, brilliant, but sad. You brought happiness to his life, meaning. Thank you."

John took a deep breath and listened to Nancy with a modest blush. "Mum, he saved my life, too," he whispered, his voice breaking. Don't cry. Don't be stupid. "He...saved me," he repeated softly. A nurse brushed by him and nodded toward the room. Right, Sherlock. His husband. "Mum, I have got to go and wake Sherlock up. Thank you," he said with a grin, hoping she could hear it. "Love you." He ended the call and moved into the room. It had only been half an hour but the nurse wanted to check on him. "Hey, Sherlock." He crouched slightly and ran a hand through Sherlock's hair. "Wake up a bit."

Nancy smiled as she hung up the phone. That had been a good conversation. She and John had been able to talk to each other easily since day one. It was nice and a relief. She loved her sons but sometimes they weren't very good at just making conversation.

Sherlock groaned. "Don't want to," he whined and turned away from John. "Tired," he complained some more.

The doctor came in to inform John the MRI had turned out negative and that there didn't appear to be any kind of damage to Sherlock's brain, before excusing himself quietly and leaving the room.

That was good news. Excellent in fact. He turned his attention back to his husband. "Sherlock, I just want to check your vitals." John moved to lift Sherlock up, bending him at the waist and shifting to sit behind him. "What is your husband's name?" He whispered into Sherlock's ear as he settled his husband against his chest and grabbed his wrist to check his pulse.

"Don't ask stupid question's John, you are my husband." Sherlock sighed and sat up slowly. He was awake now and his head was still pounding. Was it possible it hurt more than before? Probably, since he had been refusing pain medication. Had he really slept for two hours already? It didn't feel like it.

Yep, that was definitely Sherlock. "It has been half an hour. You can go back to sleep." He wrapped his arms around his husband and pulled him back slowly so he would rest against his chest. "Mum wants you to sleep," he whispered in Sherlock's ear. He lifted his hands to rub circles against his husband's temples.

"I am up now," Sherlock grumbled crossly. He wasn't really mad at John for waking him up; he was just feeling rather miserable at the moment. "Shit. I really want drugs right now," he admitted quietly. "No. Don't give them to me. I will be fine by tomorrow I'm sure. Once this damn pain ebbs a little."

"I hadn't planned on giving you anything," John whispered into Sherlock's ear. Maybe he should try to distract his husband? "Your Mum and I discussed our sex life," he said softly with a grin. "In detail." His fingers continued to massage Sherlock's temples. God, something needed to work. Seeing his husband in pain was horrible.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of John rubbing his head. It was calming and relaxing. "Really?" His eyes opened and he tilted his head to look up at his husband with raised eyebrows. " _You_? Mr. Shy John Watson, had a conversation about our sex life with my mother?" His lips twitched into a bemused smirk. "How did that work out for you?"

"It was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life," John replied with a laugh. "I learned that she also enjoys ribbed condoms and that she used to force your dad to wear them." He applied a little more pressure to Sherlock's temples. It seemed like this was providing quite the distraction. "She also thinks you should tie me to the mast. Oh, and the flavored lube idea came from Greg and your brother."

Sherlock smirked again and let his eyes close once more. "Sounds like quite the conversation," he muttered, as he snuggled his head deeper into John's chest. "Going to sleep some more." He brought up a hand and lazily grabbed one of his husband's, squeezed it, and then let his hand drop back down to his side as drifted back into sleep.

John smiled softly and watched Sherlock. At this rate he wasn't going to sleep for the rest of their honeymoon. He slowly let his hands drop to wrap lightly around his husband's torso. Slightly sitting up. Sherlock must have been very tired. He placed a soft kiss on top of his husband's head before he started to hum to him, trying to keep his husband asleep.

Sherlock only slept for a little over an hour. His head still hurt but it didn't appear to be pounding like it had been before. He was still curled into a John. Good. That was always nice. He shifted so his head now rested on his husband's shoulder. "I know you are worried about me, but we should try to stay. I still need to tie you to a mast, wouldn't want to disappoint my mother now would we?" He smirked up at John.

John laughed softly and looked down at Sherlock. Less pain, making jokes. Good. "God, your Mum," he whispered with a blush, leaning his head down to give his husband a soft kiss. "I think if we went home I would never hear the end of it. Sherlock, she told me about her and your Dad." He looked petrified at the thought, his blush spread to the tips of his ears.

"I walked in on them once when I was a kid. I didn't understand what was going on then or even until much later actually. Ended up reading about it in one of those sex books I read." Sherlock smirked into John's chest. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his husband like this, he didn't like that it was in a hospital. "Do I get to leave soon by chance? I know you said not until tomorrow but, I'm fine now. Really."

John looked down at Sherlock with a laugh. Despite his husband's claims that he didn't have a normal childhood, it seemed that he did experience what most children did at some point in their life. That horrifying moment of catching their parents. He silently thanked God that it was Harry who found them. "I am sure we could. I'm going to make you wait in our bed, though. At least until tomorrow morning."

"It will be better than staying here." Sherlock didn't want to stay at the hospital any longer than he had to. He sat up and took the I-V out with a slight wince. "See? I'm fine. Yanking out I-V's out all over again." He smirked over at John and stood up. He wasn't dizzy at least but he was still a little unsteady on his feet.

"Sherlock." John studied his husband intently before tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Should have let me do that." He slid off of the bed and moved behind Sherlock to steady him. "Definitely bed rest for the rest of the day," he whispered with a smile. "I will make you some tea and even lay with you." He placed a kiss between Sherlock's shoulder blades, not caring that the man was wearing a shirt.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Just like old times." It had been meant as a joke, although a poor one, but his tone of voice held no humor. Nothing could seem to go right, not even their honeymoon. He didn't protest the help John offered, instead he slumped into him slightly as he walked out of the room. They paused to fill out some paper work, and he ignored the doctor trying to convince him to stay. He scribbled his signature and then kept going.

"Calm down. Sherlock, things happen." John moved past the nurses station and held his husband with ease. "We will get you to feeling better. Besides, the rest might help both of us." Which it would. They had been shagging non-stop so a break would help them. Granted, he might toss off in the shower once just because Sherlock wouldn't be ready to go until sometime tomorrow afternoon. "Love you."

"Yeah, but they have a nasty habit of happening to _us_ a lot." Sherlock sighed with a slight shrug. It wasn't a surprise that a black car was waiting for them when they walked outside. He shook his head a bit and climbed into the car. He nestled into John's shoulder once they were both situated.

"We run around London. A lot is bound to happen to us." John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulder protectively. Sherlock did have a point, though. A lot of things did happen to them. "This was just an odd little accident. It could have happened to anybody else with an attractive husband," he said with a smirk.

Sherlock couldn't help the small smirk that crossed his lips. "Well, you do distract me quite easily my dear doctor." Since he had already slept, he wouldn't sleep again for the day so he wasn't sure what he would do to help pass the time. Maybe it will just be another one of those days where he and John snuggled in bed. That would be nice.

John grinned happily. Hearing Sherlock tell him that he was a distraction always made his heart beat a little faster. "I am usually glad that I'm a distraction but now I might have to hide from you when you are doing something important," he whispered into Sherlock's ear as his hand rubbed his husband's upper arm soothingly. "When we get home we will get you into some pajamas and have you relax in bed. I'll make you tea and even lay in bed with you, if you would like."

"Hmmm," Sherlock mused out loud and then fell silent. He knocked on the divider and the tinted window rolled down. He spoke to the man in Italian briefly and then handed over some money. The tinted window went back up. "Short detour before we get back to the beach house." He gave John a grin.

"What?" John watched the exchange of money and studied his husband nervously. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" He couldn't help the grin that was tugging at his lips because, really, anything Sherlock did was always adorable. Unless they were going somewhere like a bloody museum. "Sherlock." He leaned forward with a soft chuckle, gently meeting his husband's lips. "Tell me."

Sherlock just smirked at John for awhile. "It is a surprise. You aren't the only one who can do that." He reached over and took his husband's hand. "When the car stops, just wait. I am having the driver stop off somewhere first real quick and then we will be on our way to the beach house all right?"

God, he felt like a giddy little boy waiting to open his presents on Christmas. "Sherlock," he said with a laugh, licking his lips. This romantic side was rare and to many others, not even romantic. Coming from Sherlock, though, made it absolutely adorable. "So I am going to wait in the car?" He rolled his eyes playfully. "Do I get a hint?"

"No hint. You will see soon enough. If it makes you feel better, I will be sitting here with you when the car stops. In fact, so you can't cheat and look out the window I am having him park a few blocks away and walking." Sherlock smirked at John once more. The vehicle came to a stop. "It will be about ten, maybe fifteen minutes until he comes back. When we get back to the beach house, you go inside first and I will be in after you." He was feeling rather pleased with himself right now.

John relaxed into his seat somewhat childishly, narrowing his eyes. "I even gave you a hint before I shagged you in my uniform," he mumbled as he squeezed his husband's hand. This was out of the blue, unexpected. He, honestly, had no idea what to think. "Oh, you romantic sod, you." He leaned over with a large grin and gave his husband a soft kiss, shifting to throw a leg over Sherlock and straddle his lap.

Romantic? Sherlock wasn't sure what he had planned was 'romantic' and now he was suddenly worried he was going to disappoint John with his surprise. Shit, he couldn't even do a surprise right. His thoughts were interrupted immediately when his husband was straddling him. He returned the kiss, arms wrapping around John in a hug. He continued kissing his husband, breathing loudly through his nose like he often did when he didn't want to break the contact.

There it was. The _one_ thing that Sherlock did that really turned him on. The moment John heard his husband exhale from his nose like that during a kiss, he lost control. That meant Sherlock wanted to stay close to him, to not pull away. His hips pressed forward against Sherlock's stomach lightly despite the fact that he knew he couldn't get an erection. God, he loved his husband. He did the same, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling loudly so he wouldn't have to pull away.

Sherlock whimpered into the kiss when John pressed into him. He pressed back, and eventually he had to break the kiss so he could breathe properly. He could only go so long with breathing through his nose like that. He felt the car start moving and he gave his husband a grin. He moved a hand up to run through John's hair lightly. "I love you," he whispered as his grin turned into a small, soft smile.

"I love you, too," John replied as his eyes slipped close at the feel of Sherlock's hand in his hair. How was it that the back of a car was so utterly relaxing? Then again, it seemed like anywhere could be relaxing if he had Sherlock with him. "This surprise of yours is driving me mad," he admitted softly as he cracked one eye open to study his husband. "Why do I have to go back inside first?"

"It isn't that good, you will probably be disappointed." Sherlock was having doubts about his surprise now. Doubt wasn't something he usually felt and the hated the sensation it gave him inside. He was just trying to fix what he had messed up by crashing the yacht. "You don't have to I guess…" He trailed off with a sigh; yeah he had definitely ruined this.

John tensed and studied his husband. "I am sure I will love it," he whispered as the car came to a stop. "I'll be inside. Join me when everything is ready." He gently met Sherlock's lips before sliding to the door and getting out. He bent down before he shut the door. "It will be wonderful." He winked at Sherlock before shutting the door and walking into the beach house.

Sherlock got out of the car and moved to the front. He opened the passenger's side door and pulled out a large pizza box and an expensive, fine red Italian wine. They had been on the way to go eat a pizzeria, they hadn't made it there. So, he had brought it to them as best he could. He had even remembered what his husband had wanted on it: black olives, pepperoni, onions and mushrooms. He thanked the driver and told the man to keep the change. He took a deep breath and walked into the beach house. "John Watson, your party is waiting for you. Dinner for two." He called out, a small smirk on his lips.

That was it. If anybody tried to tell John that Sherlock wasn't romantic then he would literally punch them in the face. John turned slowly and grinned, laughing softly. "Oh, that smells wonderful," he whispered as he moved forward, bending to avoid the pizza box and gently meet his husband's lips. "I love you," he said proudly as he grabbed the box and set it on the dining table. "I will get the plates ready if you get the wine ready." He moved, paused, and turned to his husband. "I mean, if you are hungry, that is."

Sherlock smiled smugly as he gauged John's reaction. "It is good then?" He walked into the kitchen to get wine glasses and a cork screw. "Yes, I am rather hungry believe it or not. I will just blame it on the concussion." He smirked a bit as he popped the cork just like his father had taught him. He had a wine glass in his other hand and he poured the red liquid in it. He dispensed the wine into a second glass and then carried the glasses and bottle back to the table.

"Yes. Perfect." John grinned and took out a large slice, shoving it into his mouth and taking a large bite. Perfect. This was _perfect_. "Oh, God," he groaned and let his head fall back, chewing slowly as he enjoyed the pizza. "That is it. We are getting Amy and moving down here and living off of pizza." He swallowed his bite and moved to kiss his husband again, gently taking his wine glass away as he did. "Bloody fantastic," he muttered as he took a sip from the wine and groaned again. "Perfect dinner."

Sherlock beamed proudly and reached over to grab a slice of pizza. "That would be one hell of a commute." He smirked at John as he returned the kiss. He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Is it…uh...romantic?" He looked at his husband questioningly, eye brows slightly raised. He couldn't imagine why pizza and wine would be romantic but really he didn't grasp the meaning very well but he was trying to understand it.

John froze, his slice of pizza half way to his mouth as he laughed. "Yeah, of course it is," he replied with a nod. "You smashed your head, went to the hospital, and before going home you made sure to stop and buy pizza because that was what I had suggested for dinner. That is pretty romantic." He shrugged and took another large bite of pizza and took another sip of wine. "If I could, I'd shag you on this table after I ate the pizza."

Sherlock nodded. That was good, right? Ordinary people liked romantic things; although he wasn't sure he entirely understood the concept behind it yet. He finally took a bite of the pizza, and swallowed it down with a sip of the red wine. "I am glad you like it." He gave John a smile before taking another bite of food.

"Mmm," John finished his slice of pizza in two more large bites. Who knew Sherlock was so romantic? Granted, he probably didn't know he had done something so wonderful but that was what made him adorable. "Eat up," he muttered, downing his glass of wine. "We will get you settled into bed after that." He winked and moved to pour himself a second glass of wine.

Sherlock finished off the first slice and decided to grab a second one, although it was a smaller piece. His wine glass was still half full. After he finished off both, he would be ready to go to the bedroom. "We could snuggle in bed, all tangled up in each other like we did yesterday for over half a day." He looked up to John with a smirk.

Two slices. John smiled softly and finished his second glass of wine. "I wouldn't mind being tangled up with you at all," he said as he brushed past him with a wink. He started unbuttoning his shirt as he entered their bedroom, tossing it aside as he started to toe off his shoes. "You owe me a story," he shouted over his shoulder as he finally flopped on to their bed.

Sherlock shut the lid on the box but left it on the table. He also re-corked the wine before following after John into the bedroom. Screw pajamas. He preferred no clothes and he undressed completely. He laid down next to his husband, snuggling into the other man's shoulder. "A story? Give me a minute to think of something?"

"Oi, not fair," John whispered with a laugh as he wrapped an arm around his husband. "I can't properly tangle with you now," he muttered. If he got naked again he might end up tossing off in the shower because, really, it wasn't exactly safe to shag Sherlock while he had a concussion. Despite his thoughts he reached down to undo his jeans, pushing them off with his underwear and kicking them off the bed. "There, you have had a minute and now I am naked. Story time."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at John's comment. Story. Okay, he could do this. Apparently he had done well the last time, although he had felt it had run too long and the ending wasn't very strong. A sequel to his previous story? Sure why not. "As it turns out, the wizard, knight, orphan and wizard's tower hadn't actually blinked out of existence. They had been teleported to a different plane of existence. It wasn't a pleasant place. It was dark and desolate. Sun didn't shine there, it was perpetually night. The three knew they would have to work together if they wanted to leave this place and return to their own kingdom. The wizard said he could prepare a spell to get them back home, but he would need components. It was the job of the knight and orphan to go find them. The knight gave the boy a steel dagger, since the orphan wasn't strong enough to wield a proper sword. The two faced many perils together but they always came out on top. When they had all the ingredients they went back to the wizard's keep. The sorcerer had double crossed the knight and orphan. The tower and wizard were gone. They were now trapped in that plane of existence and they had to making a living there, but they never stopped trying to find a way home."

"I literally hate you," John whispered with a grin, taking a deep breath as he tried to push back sleep. "I don't, really. I love you more than you ever thought I would. I just hate how you wonderfully tell stories and I am rubbish at it," he was mumbling. Carrying on about nothing. Maybe laying in bed with Sherlock wasn't the best idea because at this rate he was going to fall asleep and leave his husband awake with a concussion. "I have got the feeling that you are the knight and I'm the orphan," he whispered as his eyes slipped closed.

Sherlock smirked. "Really? I had never really thought about it to be honest," he commented on the part about him being the knight and John being the orphan. He glanced up at his husband, smiled and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Sleep if you need to my dear doctor. Just no nightmares for you tonight."

Sleep. "M'kay," John whispered with a weak smile. "Won't sleep for too long," he added before he finally relaxed. It seemed that tonight wasn't a good one though. The moment he started to dream it was nothing but gun firing and yelling, blood and dirt. Shit. No. _No_. He ripped away from Sherlock as he sat up, panting and whimpering as he tried to calm himself down. Vacation. Honeymoon. But all he could smell was burning flesh and hear screaming.


	37. Chapter 37

Shit. John hadn't had any nightmares since the honeymoon had started and his husband waking up roughly startled Sherlock. He reached out tentatively and took his partner's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, it is okay. Everything is fine. You are safe. I am right here." He never really knew what to say or do when John woke up from a nightmare, but he always tried his best to comfort his husband.

John jumped slightly at Sherlock's touch, a small shout echoing through the room, before he heard Sherlock's voice. Safe. He licked his lips and slammed his eyes shut, curling his legs against his chest and burying his face in his arms. That one hadn't been pleasant at all and it was lingering. "S-Sorry," he whispered, not daring to turn and face his husband. He was crying, he could feel it, and he didn't want to ruin Sherlock's night.

"It is fine. Do you want to talk about this one?" Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and drew his husband's back into his chest. He reached up to run a hand soothingly through his partner's hair. He kissed the back of John's neck gently. He tried to think of suggestion to help his husband forget the dream but came up empty.

John relaxed instantly against Sherlock, staying quiet for a long moment before taking a deep breath. "It was real," he muttered after he had braced himself. "We had an American chopper go down right outside of Kandahar a-and." Calm down. Don't worry. Deep breaths. "One soldier had caught on fire and when I got to him his legs were gone and he was burned but crying out for me." By name, he remembered. Calling out for John Watson. "And I tried to save him but I couldn't and I got wasted that night because all I could smell was burnt flesh and hear him crying out for me."

Sherlock never really knew what to say on the rare occasions John did talk about the nightmares. Just be there, he told himself mentally. He hugged his husband closer to him, placing small kisses up and down John's neck and shoulder blades. "It wasn't your fault, John. You tried to get to him as quickly as you could. You did everything you could and I know you don't feel like that was enough but it was. He didn't die alone, which would be far scarier than dying without someone there to at least hold your hand." Wow. Where had that come from? Sometimes he surprised himself.

In that exact moment John remembered why he proposed to Sherlock in the first place. He waited for a pause in the soft, comforting kisses to look up. His eyes were red, tears streaked down his cheeks, but he looked at his husband with the biggest smile. "Yeah," he whispered softly. He had never thought about it like that. The soldier had died holding his hand. "Yeah," he repeated softly, nodding slightly and dropping his head again. Well, he felt a bit better after that.

Sherlock smiled gently when John turned to look at him. Good. He had done well. He hadn't been sure if those words would help at all but it had seemed like the right thing to say at the time. As long as he didn't over think it, he always seemed to do fine in moments where he felt extremely under qualified to be in any kind of relationship. "I love you." He could never go wrong saying those words to his husband.

John hummed slightly against his husband's chest. "Love you, too," he replied softly as he lifted his head again. Tea. That would make things better, wouldn't it? "Do you want some tea?" He asked softly, placing a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. There was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep and he had accepted that. "Can suck you off for being such a wonderful husband," he added with a smirk.

Sherlock nodded. "Tea sounds lovely. I will make it for you, my dear doctor." He released John slowly and sat up. "You can try, not sure much would get accomplished though." He got up off the bed and then moved to the kitchen. He started the kettle and while he waited for it to boil he got out cups and tea bags.

Well, he had picked the perfect husband. John had planned on making it himself but Sherlock standing in the kitchen certainly made things a bit more...interesting? He grinned and slid out of bed, approaching his husband with a mischievous grin. "Sherlock," he whispered as he moved slowly to his knees, his hand moving to instantly grab and tug at Sherlock's penis.

Sherlock turned and was about to ask what John wanted but all that came out was a moan. Oh. He put the palm of his hands on the edge of the counter for support. He hadn't expected this but it was feeling wonderful. Now, if only he could get an erection. After having shagged in the hospital and on the yacht, he wasn't sure he would be able to get there.

Good. Moaning already. John grinned and let his tongue dart out to lick at the tip of Sherlock's cock, his eyes up and locked on his husband's face. "C'mon, I know you can," he whispered before taking as much of Sherlock into his mouth as he could. He gagged slightly but pulled back slowly, his hands moving to pin Sherlock's hips against the cabinets as he started bobbing his head slowly.

God, that felt good. He moaned, his grip tightening on the counter. As much as he was enjoying the blow job he still wasn't getting hard. "I don't think I can, I am sorry." He squirmed, thrusting up a bit into his husband's mouth with another moan. He forced himself still, frustrated at not being able to get an erection despite John sucking on his cock.

John pulled away slowly, inhaling loudly. "It is fine," he said with a smile. "I owe you, then. One blow job in the kitchen." He stood slowly and placed a kiss at the top of the scar running down his husband's chest. "The kettle is boiling, by the way," he stated with a grin, looking up at Sherlock with a smug grin. Sometimes it was nice to have a bit of power.

Sherlock's knees almost buckled out from under him when John moved away. He gave his husband a smirk. "I owe you flavored lube, tied to the mast, a shagging in the shower and a bunch of other things that I can't focus on right now because I am a bit distracted right now." Oh the tea. He had forgotten about that completely until John had reminded him about it.

John smiled softly at his husband and shook his head. "You don't owe me anything," he whispered as he rested against his husband, ignoring the kettle. "Being with you is enough." He grinned and placed another soft kiss at the hallow of his husband's neck. "Don't you ever think you owe me anything, Sherlock."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "Fine, I don't owe you anything but we are still going to do all that, shagging everywhere in this house and break everything before we leave. Because it will be fun." The smirk got bigger as he tilted his head up so John could have better access to his neck, his arms wrapping around his husband in a hug. Tea didn't seem important right now.

John smirked against Sherlock's neck. "When your Mum comes out here for a vacation and finds the broken headboard she is going to kill us," he whispered as he ran his tongue up the tendon of his husband's neck. This was good, being wrapped in Sherlock's arms and giving him the attention he deserved. It was more helpful than tea. "I love you," he said as he pressed closer to Sherlock.

"The couch is also one of those pull out beds, she can sleep on that. Payback for making Mycroft and I share a bed on holiday." Sherlock lifted his head as much as he could, to help maximize the space John could reach. He was really wishing he could get hard right about now. His husband's mouth on his neck was glorious. "Love you too," he replied with a small whimper of desire.

So this was possibly working. Sherlock was squirming, whimpering...John had to be getting somewhere. But they were both naked and it was obvious his husband wasn't getting hard. "Aren't you supposed to be on bed rest?" He whispered into Sherlock's neck with a smile. "Don't need you passing out."

"Screw bed rest, want you." Except Sherlock still wasn't getting an erection. At this rate he was going to drive himself mad with sexual frustration. He pulled John closer to him, fingers scratching along his husband's back lightly. He tilted his head back down and met John's lips, deepening the kiss with a bit of aggression and desperation.

John whimpered into the kiss, surprised by the power Sherlock was using. God, his husband was desperate and he loved it. Despite Sherlock's clear motivation, he knew that he wasn't getting a hard on at all. "Can only suck you off," he said against his husband's lips. He had been too busy the entire day and now it was just about Sherlock.

Even with his best efforts, Sherlock still wasn't getting hard. He sighed in resignation, and broke the kiss. The kettle was still blowing. "Shit, sorry." He had wanted to make it happen but he just couldn't get there. He leaned over and moved the kettle off the hot coils on the stove, if only to stop the noise. "Still want the tea?" Distraction, something to get his mind off wanting to shag John and the frustration of not being able to.

Calm. Deep breaths. John looked down at his husband with a slight small, nodding. "Tea would be lovely," he said as he forced himself away from his husband. It wouldn't be useful to keep standing against him if they couldn't do anything. "Guess you will just have to wait until tomorrow." He smiled and ran a hand slowly down Sherlock's chest.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered again. Tomorrow. God yes they were definitely going to shag tomorrow damn it. He poured the cooling water into two cups and stirred in the tea. He added sugar to one and gave it to John and then filled the other with milk. Since the water had been boiling longer than needed, he waited for his tea to cool a bit before taking a sip.

"Sherlock, you are fine," John said with a smile as he blew on his tea and took a small sip. Delicious. "Your perfect tea making skills are more than enough." He leaned against the counter and then sheepishly covered himself. Even if it was just Sherlock, he was still a bit uncomfortable being naked in the middle of the house.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at John. "You should just get used to being naked my dear doctor. We are on our honeymoon in a private beach house. I estimate we will only be clothed ten percent of the time anyway." He took another sip of his tea. "Any ideas on how to spend the rest of the night. Maybe some telly? I could read you that book my mother gave me." His smirk broadened.

Oh. The book. John figured it was different and better than watching telly. But it would certainly make him blush. "Hate my body," he mumbled with a small blush as he took another sip of tea. "Is that book any good?" He asked hesitantly.

"My dear doctor, you make no sense sometimes do you know that? My body has just as many if not more scars than yours does. What makes mine amazing and perfect and yours not?" Sherlock set the cup on the counter and moved over to John. He placed his hands on his husband's shoulders lightly and leaned down and gave John's forehead a kiss. The book wasn't important right now, his husband was.

John looked up at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile, studying his husband curiously. "It isn't just the scars," he muttered, looking down at his mug. "I am short. Bit pudgy since I have left the Army. No where near as beautiful as you." He shifted to set his tea down and bravely met his husband's gaze.

Sherlock snorted. "How in the hell did you ever shag so many woman with that kind of attitude? You know, one the things that attracted me to you to begin with is your self confidence. When you talk like that, its like I don't even know the man I fell in love with." He frowned a bit. Shit, were they on their way to another fight? He should have just kept his mouth shut, shouldn't he?

Oh. John dropped his head instantly. "Mostly in the dark," he mumbled softly as he tried to control his blush. "I am sort of comfortable with you," he added as he pressed himself against the counter. "When I look at you I get jealous. You have a slim body, perfect muscles." He swallowed and finally met his husband's gaze again. "I am not like you. That was why you are always in control, Sherlock."

Were they really going to have this conversation on their honeymoon? It would seem so. The frown on Sherlock's lips deepened in thought. "I let you have control. Sometimes...sort of..." He sighed as he trailed off, as he thought a bit longer. "You know what? Tomorrow. Complete control. No input or suggestions from me. I will agree and submit to anything and everything you say. We will do whatever you want to do _all_ day." They had tried that once before at the hotel in Kabul but it really hadn't worked out very well. He was determined to make sure it happened this time around.

Control. John's eyes went wide and he swallowed. There was a reason he rarely fought it and that was because he believed Sherlock deserved the control, not him. "O-Okay," he muttered nervously, taking a deep breath. Could he do that? An entire day. Well, he figured he could. "Are you sure?" He hesitantly moved his hands out to rest on his husband's hips, his thumbs running over Sherlock's hipbones. This was a change but...it seemed like they were right on the edge of possibly fighting.

Sherlock nodded, smiling down at John. "Of course. That is of course, you want to." He didn't want his husband to feel like he had to. It would have to be something John wanted to do, not something his husband felt obligated to do. He wrapped his arms around his partner, hugging the other man close to him. "A whole twenty-four hours. Midnight to midnight." He gave a slight smirk and then kissed John on the lips lightly.

Twenty-four hours. John grinned into the kiss and pulled his husband closer eagerly. "Of course," he said. It was like he was a little kid again. He had only had complete control once and it had been at the beginning of the honeymoon. "I would love to." He laughed and suddenly seemed so full of confidence, his eyes shining a little brighter and his chest puffed out a bit more. This would be good, wouldn't it? Good. "I love you," he muttered as he buried his face in Sherlock's chest with a blush and a giggle.

Good. Very good indeed. Fight averted and John was happy. The latter was more important to Sherlock but he was relieved that both had been the outcome. "I love you too." He rested his head atop of his husband's. He glanced over to the clock on the microwave. "In a couple of hours it will be midnight, so you better be ready. No pressure or anything." He pulled away so he could smirk down at John.

John turned his head slightly and snorted. "I doubt I will _actually_ be able to do anything until tomorrow morning," he muttered as he turned his head again, placing soft kisses against his husband's chest. "I could make you lay on the bed," he whispered. "Map out every inch of your skin with my mouth." A small smirk tugged at his lips at the thought. That sounded wonderful, actually.

"If that is what you want to do, then that is what we will do. Like I said, whatever you want. It doesn't have to be all sexual, just so you know. Tomorrow is your day and I mean _exactly_ that." Sherlock smiled down at John and then leaned in to kiss his husband once more, his forehead resting on his partner's comfortably. His eyes slid close in contentment as he continued the gentle and easy kiss.

John returned the kiss at the same speed, pulling away when he needed a breath. "That isn't sexual. More romantic, really," he whispered as he gently started to move his feet, slowly mouthing a 'one-two-three-four' beat. There wasn't any music but his feet slid well against the floor and Sherlock looked stunning. They were naked but sod it, nobody was around to see them. He grinned up at his husband.

Again, that word 'romantic.' Sherlock was certain he would never understand the concept at this point. Even though it wasn't midnight yet, he figured he could give John a head start. He followed his husband's lead with ease. He returned the grin. "Look at you. Dancing all on your own and with no music. I am impressed. Of course, you had a amazing and perfect teacher." The grin twisted into a smirk.

"Had trouble focusing on dancing lessons," John muttered as he glanced down at his feet. "My teacher was too attractive. Wanted to shag him through a wall the whole time." He glanced up at his husband for a moment as he slowed his feet to stand on his toes, kissing Sherlock. Might as well start teasing his husband now. "Wanted to wake up in your arms tomorrow morning," he whispered against Sherlock's lips. "Have a wonderful morning shag," he added with a lop-sided smile.

Sherlock returned the kiss without hesitation. "That sounds like a wonderful idea my dear doctor." Hopefully one of them would be up to it, because at this rate he wasn't sure either one of them would be able to do much of any kind of shagging. He kept that to himself. He didn't want to spoil any of this for John. All he could do was hope he would be able to get an erection tomorrow. It _needed_ to happen for his husband. He needed to keep John happy.

"Of course it is a wonderful idea. I came up with it." John laughed softly and reached around Sherlock to grab his mug. The tea was still steaming slightly and he took a small sip, a shiver running through him at the wonderful sensation. "Are you tired?" He asked softly as he moved his free hand to rub gently at the bruise forming on his husband's forehead. He had taken quite the hit. "That concussion might knock you at again."

"Not really," Sherlock admitted. He couldn't help the small grimace from John's touch. "Still tender though." He moved his head slightly, away from the inquiring fingers. It was probably due to the lack of pain medication. Shit. He had been doing so well. He hadn't thought about it all since the hospital until now. He needed a distraction otherwise he would just become irritable and grumpy, of that much he was certain.

"Sorry." John took another sip from his tea and set the mug on the counter, smiling gently at him. "I could stay up with you, if you would like," he paused. "Or...you know, try at least." Honestly, he enjoyed sleeping. It was something that pulled him from the real world. And when he wasn't having nightmares he did have pleasant dreams and usually slept like a bear.

Sherlock gave John a soft smile. "It is fine my dear doctor. And whether or not you sleep, is entirely up to you. It is your day, so you get to do whatever the hell you want." He was quiet for a moment after that. "If you really want me to, I can try to sleep." He wasn't sure if he would, but he would try. Usually he wouldn't agree to such a thing, but he had promised his husband complete control and damn it he was going to give it. Even if meant sleeping or eating when he didn't want to. He could muster through that for a day, he figured.

Offering to sleep? "Are you telling me that you can make yourself fall asleep?" John looked up at him with his eyebrows knitted together, narrowing his eyes. This was rubbish. If Sherlock could _make_ himself fall asleep then John would literally smack him. "I am not saying you have to," he added after a long moment. He didn't want to force Sherlock to do anything he didn't want to. "That is fine, really. You can stay up." He yawned and pressed his face into his husband's chest.

"Make myself sleep? No. I merely said I would _try_ if you wanted me to." Sherlock shrugged slightly. Had he ruined things by his offer? He had been trying to make things better by the suggestion. The twenty-four hours hadn't even started yet and already he was screwing it up. Bloody fantastic. He placed his chin on top of John's head, pulling his husband slightly closer to him in a hug.

John relaxed further into his husband and smiled softly. It was one of _those_ hugs. "You haven't done anything wrong," he stated softly as his fingers moved lightly up and down Sherlock's spine. "I learned two days after our wedding that I shouldn't force you to do anything. I don't care if you give me control, I am not going to make you do anything that you don't want to."

A genuinely delighted smiled tugged on his lips. Sherlock pulled away so he could once more look down at his husband, gazing into the other man's eyes. "John Hamish Watson, I love you." He smiled once more, and encompassed his partner in another hug. His cheek and ear rested on the top of John's head. He wasn't ready to let go, but he did make sure it wasn't too tight. His eyes closed again, perfectly content in this position.

John returned the hug but tried to figure out what he had said or done that had warranted the use of his full name. "Right. Yeah," he cleared his throat. "I love you, too." He closed his eyes. Why think about it? It was nice to have Sherlock holding him close like he was. So much affection coming from Sherlock was nice and John would take anything he could get.

Sherlock had noticed the hesitation and after awhile he pulled away from John. "I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated what you said. After the first month of being married, I guess it just means a lot to me. Thank you." He smiled at his husband once more. He hadn't wanted to bring up the hell that was the beginning of their marriage but he felt it needed to be said.

Oh. Right. John had said something right. He smiled softly and nodded, even shrugging. "I learned. I had to keep you happy, didn't I? That is what marriage is about, isn't? Understanding each other?" He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and dropped his eyes. Almost too emotional. "So I learned. I watched and observed and figured out what you did and didn't like."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Sherlock smiled and then nodded slightly. He wasn't sure he knew what marriage was really about but he knew it was harder than he thought it would be. It required a lot of talking. Compromise. Maybe even a little sacrifice. Things he never thought he would do but his husband was worth it.

It was weird to be talking about marriage with Sherlock because sometimes John couldn't believe they were married. "You are my husband," John whispered softly with a small yank of his husband to pull him closer. He stood on his toes and gently met his husband's lips, holding him as close as he could.

"And you are mine." Sherlock returned the kiss and smiled behind it. This was nice. He always loved moments like these that they shared together. He let their lips linger together once the kiss was over, his head resting on John's carefully so as not to agitate the gash on his head. Maybe he was just being selfish but even though his husband was probably getting tired he didn't want to let go.

Husband. John was Sherlock's husband. He grinned and let his eyes slip closed, his breathing slowly slightly. "You are comfortable," he muttered into Sherlock's chest. For being so skinny he really made a fantastic pillow, even if they were standing up.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "Comfortable? I am all skin and bones. You can practically cut yourself on my cheekbones. Want to go lay down? I can carry you, if you are too tired." He smirked again, hugging John closer to him still. "Speaking of comfortable, you make a wonderful pillow."

John snorted and looked up at Sherlock. "I am a bit too heavy for you to carry me," he muttered with a smirk. "And I make a good pillow because I am a bit bigger than you." He yawned and let his head fall back against his husband's chest. "I have slept on you before and you are amazingly comfortable."

"I have carried you before. I am sure can do it again." Sherlock smirked cockily into John's short hair. He was actually enjoying hugging his husband close like this, so he didn't bother to move either of them from the kitchen. The tea was long forgotten by now and barely touched, but he didn't care. He could make a fresh pot later.

Right. In the middle of the desert. "I was barely awake for that," John muttered with a soft laugh. But he did remember some of it, laying with his head in Sherlock's lap. "Besides, I have put on weight since then." He let his eyes slip closed again, leaning more on his husband. "Don't want to break you."

"Fine, then we had better get you to bed. If you fall asleep standing up, I will have to carry you anyway." Sherlock kissed the top of John's head before lifting his. He didn't pull away from his husband, since the other man was relying heavily upon him at this point. He didn't mind at all. "If you don't want to make it the bedroom, the couch is a bit closer."

Moving. Laying down. John grunted and slowly lifted his head. The bed had more space and was a bit more comfortable. "Bed," he whispered as he slowly pulled away from Sherlock. He couldn't help but giggle softly at the fact that they were both still naked. He moved slowly toward their bedroom and flopped on to the bed.

Sherlock smiled, nodded and followed after John. He snuggled in next to his husband, his head laying on John's shoulder and an arm draped over his husband's stomach. His other hand ran soothingly through John's hair. Hopefully his husband wouldn't have any nightmares this time around.

John rolled into Sherlock and tightly wrapped his arms around his husband, pressing his husband's face into his chest. "Love you," he muttered into Sherlock's hair as he tangled their legs together. He pressed their bodies together as tight as he could, grumbling slightly before he slowly started to relax, finally falling asleep.

Sherlock smiled, kissing John's shoulder lightly. "I love you too." He wasn't tired after napping earlier today but he would stay here next to his husband. He tilted his head up to whisper into John's ear. "Sleep well this time my dear doctor. Think of me in your dreams. Of little Sandi. All the wonderful things you have planned tomorrow."


	38. Chapter 38

John slept until the sunlight started creeping into their room, groaning softly and tightening his grip on his husband. Morning. Fuck, he just wanted to sleep. He groaned again and cracked an eye open as he stretched, his finger nails digging into his husband's back. Right, so... morning. He yawned and glanced down at Sherlock. Wasn't there something special about today?

Sherlock shifted to look up at John, when he felt his husband stirring. "Good morning." He was about to lean over and give John a kiss on the lips but then he remembered he wasn't allowed. Well, he supposed not anyway. He had spent all night, coming up with wild and unrealistic ideas about what could possibly happen with his husband in control.

Had he done something wrong? Not even a good morning kiss? John let his eyebrows tug together before it all dawned on him. Full day in control. Granted, he had slept through six and a half hours of it but he had wanted that. Oh, God, he was in control. He moved and roughly met Sherlock's lips, rolling them so he could pin his husband to the mattress and settle between his legs. "Want to fuck you," he growled against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock returned the kiss but let John control it. With restraint he managed not to utter a cocky come back. He supposed submitting to total control would mean he would have to be demure as well. He could deal with that, despite the fact that it went against his usually strong personality. "Okay," he replied quietly and managed not to squirm at the mere thought.

"God, I want you," John gasped and leaned off of Sherlock, reaching into the bedside table, grabbing lube and a condom. He was already hard, something he considered quite the accomplishment, and grinned as he pressed his penis into Sherlock's stomach slightly. A moan ripped from his mouth and he moved to meet his husband's lips again. "Feel wonderful," he whispered as he opened the lube, winced at the horrid strawberry smell, and quickly got some on his fingers. Should he warn Sherlock? Tell him? Sod it. He shifted and worked two fingers into his husband.

Well, John was certainly most eager this morning. Not that he would ever complain about something like that. Sherlock couldn't help but moan when he felt his husband's fingers inside of him. He had to keep reminding himself not to squirm or thrust into John. No scratching either. Shit, this was harder than he thought. He dug his fingernails into the sheets below him. Begging was allowed, wasn't it? He bit his bottom lip in hesitation.

John paused for a moment. "Act like you usually would," he panted, begging slightly. It was odd to have Sherlock acting so different but he figured his husband was taking this to heart. "P-Please." he took a deep breath and finished preparing Sherlock before grabbing the condom and tearing the foil open with his teeth. "You are going to love this," he whispered as he shifted to rest on his knees, rolling the condom on himself. He had bought them so Sherlock could enjoy the sensation, too. "Ready?"

Oh thank God. That relieved the tension and trepidation Sherlock had been feeling, and he relaxed. He wrapped his arms around John, fingers trailing along his husband's back lightly. "Please? Want you too." He kept his voice quiet, and only met John's gaze briefly before looking away. Something new. He was excited about that. New things almost always turned out to be fantastic.

John slowly entered Sherlock. It felt different but this, secretly, was more for Sherlock than him anyway. He took a deep breath as he moved slowly, one hand moving to grab Sherlock's leg and wrap it around his waist. "Oh, God." He dropped his head and closed his eyes as he started a slow, smooth rhythm and made sure Sherlock could feel the difference.

A moan escaped Sherlock as soon as John entered him. The sensation was different than what he was used to but still felt wonderful. Better than that really. It caused extra friction. Couldn't go wrong with that. Why hadn't they tried this sooner? How had he not read about this before in one of his books? One hand continued to scratch lightly at his husband's back but the other dropped to the sheets below to tangle in them tightly. "John…" He wasn't able to think clearly enough to finish whatever thought he had tried to form.

John grinned because _that_ was a good noise. A really good noise. He kept his rhythm, slow and smooth, and grunted each time his hips hit Sherlock's body. He was going to take his time, make sure everything Sherlock felt was amplified. "Jesus." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as he dropped down to support himself with his elbows, his breathing hard as he finally met his husband's gaze. Sherlock was intense with those, so focused on trying to keep the control he was used to with the rest of his life, and it was enough to make John thrust once so hard that the headboard smashed against the wall.

Sherlock moaned with each of John's thrust, his hips moving in time with the man above him now. It was hard _not_ to rock in time with his husband. "Oh God," he breathed out from the hard and unexpected thrust. He was pretty sure he heard part of the headboard crack a little but that didn't really matter to him right now. John was inside of him and it felt fantastic.

It sounded like Sherlock liked that and John tensed, taking a deep breath before slamming into his husband again, the headboard smashing into the wall with a definite crack. At this point he wasn't sure if he wanted to shag his husband this hard because it would mean he probably couldn't do this again for the rest of the day. It was worth it, though. He paused for several moments before another rough thrust.

A loud moan came from Sherlock, as his other hand dropped down into the sheets with a firm grip. He whimpered during the pause, wanting John to continue the pounding. He almost pleaded for his husband to keep going but by then his partner had already thrust deep inside. "Shit," he hissed out. His eyes closed tightly. It was almost too much, but in the best way possible. He wasn't really sure words could describe what he was feeling. Perfection was all he could come up with. He was only dimly aware of the headboard splintering and cracking behind him.

John couldn't do slow anymore. Not at all. It was too good to have Sherlock beneath him not being able to control his thoughts or what came out of his mouth. He started to move faster, his thrusts as rough as he could manage. "Sherlock, Jesus." He swallowed hard and let out a small shout, a hand moving over and tangling in his husband's hair. "F-Fuck," he gasped because he was close now, so close.

"John yes," Sherlock managed to get out, his back arching up. Christ this was amazing. Why didn't he let his husband take him like this more often? It was impossible not to match the pace set by the man above him. The hand in his hair only made things even better and he didn't think that was even possible. His fingers were wrapped so tightly in the sheets that the circulation had been cut off but he didn't even care.

"God, Sherlo-" John tensed as he came with a loud shout, glancing up the moment he heard the headboard split halfway down. "Oh, fuck. Shit." He collapsed on his husband and tried to reach between them but finally gave up. He couldn't move. He had broken the headboard. _Him._ That was all him, not Sherlock. "B-Broke it," he muttered out as he slid to the side of Sherlock.

Sherlock was breathing heavily, despite the fact that he done almost none of the work this time around. He smirked up at John, even though the headboard was broken. Hell, it was mostly the reason he was smirking so broadly. "…'sgood…amazing…" His fingers finally loosened their grip on the sheets and he lifted a hand to gently run through his husband's hair.

John snorted slightly and moved his hand to grab Sherlock's cock, his hand loose as he started the fastest strokes he could manage. He could barely move right now. Half of him believed that he had literally shagged himself into a coma. A wonderful, blissful coma. That, and he had split the bloody headboard. "H-Headboard," he muttered as he turned to lazily meet his husband's lips.

Sherlock moaned as soon as John's hand was on his penis. After how amazing everything had felt he had no doubt that he wouldn't last long at all. He returned his husband's kiss, despite the fact that he really couldn't breathe right. He opted to exhale loudly through his nose. "I know. Proud," he whispered behind the kiss, the smirk returning.

 _Proud_. John snorted again and pressed harder against Sherlock's mouth. Only Sherlock could be proud about him breaking the headboard. Even if it wasn't a complete break, it had started to split. God, it must've meant that... "Your arse okay?" He asked against his husband's lips with a clearly cocky smirk.

Oh right. Sherlock hadn't even thought about that yet. Mainly because John was jerking him off and that was pretty distracting in itself. As he suspected, he didn't last long. He came, moaning into his husband's mouth. His body went lax, his breathing increasing again and he had to break the kiss to allow some form of normal air flow into his lungs. "Sore, but I will be fine." Though he wondered if he would be able to walk at all today. Hell, it had been well worth it.

John rolled and cleaned his hand off on the broken headboard with a smug smile. "Just fucked you into next week," he declared proudly as he inspected his handy-work the best he could upside down. "Your Mum...is going to kill me," he finally whispered, his head rolling so he could look at his husband. "I didn't think I would actually be able to do that. _Me_. I broke the headboard."

Sherlock took a moment to breathe properly before speaking again. He smirked up at John. "Or she will be impressed. If you are really worried about it, we can go into town and find someone to fix it. A carpenter or woodworker or something. Then the whole town will know about us." The smirk got bigger. That reminded him, he still owed his husband a shagging in an alley while they were on their honeymoon.

Oh God, Sherlock was probably right. Nancy probably _would_ be proud of John. He groaned, rolling over so his back was to his husband. "Shit," he whispered with a small giggle. "What, you going to call up and tell her?" He twisted to look at Sherlock, a blush spread across his cheeks. "That would be an odd conversation. 'Oh yeah, Mum, John broke the headboard shagging me.' That would just be..." He shook his head and returned to laying on his back, pulling the condom off, tying it, and tossing it into the trash bin.

"I hadn't planned on telling her but if it isn't fixed the next time she comes here, she would probably figure it out." Sherlock turned his head to smirk once more at John. He laid where he was for a moment before finally deciding to roll toward his husband a bit so his body could press into John's. Hopefully, his husband would allow him this small gesture while his partner was in control.

John smiled and shifted, sliding down the bed to press his face into Sherlock's chest. "Let's not fix it," he whispered. For some reason he didn't mind Nancy knowing. In fact, he wanted her to know how much he really loved Sherlock. It was perfect. "Hell, I might call her up and tell her." He paused, cleared his throat, and shook his head. "No, no I won't." He looked up at his husband. "We should fix it."

Sherlock couldn't help the loud bark of laughter that erupted from him. After his outburst died down he spoke. "So, are we getting it fixed or not?" It didn't really matter either way to him. He grinned up at John before settling his head into his husband's shoulder.

"I don't know," John muttered with a blush. Did they fix it? God, he was so proud of himself for doing that. When Sherlock had done it in Scotland he had been shocked. "No," he finally said with a grin. "I want to keep it. I want everybody to know."

Sherlock grinned at John. "Okay." They would have to be more careful the rest of the honeymoon, unless they wanted to be sleeping on the floor or the fold out bed in the couch from now. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable. He grimaced, not really realizing how sore he was until he had needed to move. Maybe he was just being a baby about it, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move the rest of the day.

That wince was hard to miss. It shouldn't have surprised John though. He remembered how sore he was after Scotland. "Sorry," he whispered with a frown. "The condom felt nice...right?" He had to reassure himself that something had been right and that Sherlock had really enjoyed it.

"It is fine. You never need to apologize for something like that. Ever." Sherlock tilted his head up to smile at John reassuringly. "And yes, it felt amazing. It was a good idea." His head nestled back into his husband's shoulder, careful not to jolt the rest of his body.

John grinned and laughed, a bit relieved that Sherlock didn't absolutely hate him after that. He hadn't meant to be so rough but one thrust had done him in. "Glad you liked it then," he whispered. "I just feel like a used you like a rag doll, literally. Do you ever feel like that after we shag really rough?"

Sherlock hesitated. Was this one of those questions that if answered 'no' then John would get upset at him for being insensitive? He slowly shook his head. "No..." He verbalized even slower. Should he? As long as his husband enjoyed it, he had never really thought about it.

"I guess I make so much noise and enjoy it so much that you should never feel like that," John replied with a small shrug and looked down at Sherlock. "I feel like I should shag you like that all the time," he added with a sheepish grin. It had been _wonderful_ for him and Sherlock had clearly enjoyed it.

Sherlock smirked up at John. "You should. I would like that." This seemed liked a good idea to just lay in bed together like they had done the other day. That was up to his husband though. Although he wasn't sure he would be able to comply with anything John may have had in mind.

"Your arse wouldn't." John laughed and hugged his husband closer with a grin. It probably wouldn't, either. That and the headboard. "I was going to suck you off later in the kitchen," he whispered with a wry grin. "I think you will still be able to do that."

"The reward is worth the risk." Sherlock smirked at John once more. "It is your day, so we will do whatever you want whenever you want." He shifted to lay on his side, to give himself a little more comfort. It was only marginally better, but he didn't seem to mind.

After that John was starving. He felt like he could eat their entire house. "Hungry," he whispered softly with a grin, tugging Sherlock closer. "I am thinking tea and eggs," he paused. "Do we have brown sauce?" They probably did, there was everything at the house.

Hungry? That would mean he would have to get up. Sherlock was about to offer to make John breakfast but he had no idea what the hell 'brown sauce' was. "Maybe. I would have to look." He shifted off of his husband and then sat up slowly, managing not to make a face of discomfort.

"Down," John stated as he moved swiftly to straddle his husband and push him back to the mattress. "I just shagged you so hard I might have broken you." He gave Sherlock a soft kiss and smiled against his husband's lips. "I will do it. Do you want anything?" He didn't make a move to get off of his husband and instead bent to press his nose against Sherlock's neck.

Any other day Sherlock would have been stubborn and resisted, but today he remained still like John instructed. Really it was probably better that way. "No, I am fine." He had eaten last night, so he was good until tomorrow or the next day. "Think I might nap while you eat." He hadn't realized he was tired until now.

A nap? John nodded slightly and smiled at his husband. Sherlock needed to sleep as much as he could and he wasn't going to stop him. "I will let you sleep as long as you want. I'm really afraid I broke you." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. It wouldn't do good to force his husband to do anything else if he hurt him this early in the morning.

Sherlock frowned slightly. Had he just ruined one of John's ideas for the day? "I can sleep later, if you had other plans." The scab forming on his head was becoming itchy but he refrained from scratching it. At least it wasn't pounding like yesterday.

"No. Sleep," John said softly, a smile on his lips. "Sleep. Please sleep," he whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's chest scar. "I want you to sleep. It would make me very happy." He grinned as he moved off of his husband and slipped on a pair of boxers.

Sherlock nodded as he smiled up at John. "All right then." Once his husband was off of him, he shifted to his side and snuggled into the pillow. It wasn't John but it would have to do. Probably wouldn't sleep as long alone but that really didn't worry him. He would only need an hour or two anyway. "Love you," he muttered as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

John watched Sherlock for a moment before turning and going into the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea and some toast, sitting at the table for an hour and a half before he decided to wake Sherlock up. He moved silently into the room, climbing into the bed as gently as he could and curling at the end. He took a deep breath before slowly taking Sherlock's penis into his mouth.

Sherlock groaned as the weight on the bed shifted and it took his brain a moment to register what was happening to him. His body squirmed reflexively as he came to wakefulness. He was still feeling sensitive from when John had given him hand job earlier. "Shit," he muttered as his eyes finally opened. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get hard so soon, but that didn't stop it from feeling wonderful.

John smirked the best he could, lifting his eyes to look at Sherlock. It had only been an hour and a half but after what he had done to his husband he figured he owed him one. He pushed at Sherlock's hip so he would lay flat, hallowing out his cheeks and taking Sherlock as deep as he could.

Sherlock stilled his body and moaned as John continued to suck him off. His fingers dug into the sheets below him, eyes closing in contentment. To his surprise and delight, he felt his cock gradually getting hard. It was going to take a little longer for it to get completely firm though. Which meant he would be able to enjoy his husband's mouth on him for a bit.

Perfect. John reached up to grab Sherlock's hands, moving them to the back of his head. God, he wanted those hands on him. He paused before pulling away slowly, his mouth open right above Sherlock's cock but not touching it. He smirked slightly and cocked an eyebrow at his husband.

As soon as Sherlock's hands were in John's hair he began scratching at the head. Now that was just fucking unfair. His eyes opened as he let out a whimper of yearning. "Please?" He begged, looking down at his husband. If John teased him too long, he just wouldn't be able to maintain the erection and probably end up being ineffectual most of the rest of the day.

John grinned, shrugging slightly. "Remember that blow job I gave you at your Mum's house when you practically fucked my mouth?" He asked as his tongue darted out and ran up Sherlock's penis before he stopped at the tip, mouth open again. "You are a genius, Sherlock. Figure it out," he whispered.

Oh. _Oh._ Sherlock had thought his husband was just trying to tease him, or maybe John was just tormenting him by making him work for it. If he was careful with the thrusts, it shouldn't agitate his already sore arse too much. He thrust up into John's mouth lightly. Partly because he didn't want to make his husband gag but mainly because anything rough would end up hurting more than he already was.

John moaned slightly and let his eyes slip closed, following Sherlock's hips down with his mouth and taking as much of his husband into his mouth as possible. God, he would never get tired to doing this for Sherlock. He let out a low hum before raising his mouth again. He knew Sherlock would only be able to do that a few more times. The man was sore from being shagged into the mattress like some sort of doll, but it would be worth it.

Shit, that felt good. Sherlock moaned as he thrust back up into John's mouth. His fingers dug into his husband's head to help hold him in place and not squirm all over the place in excitement. His eyes closed when he thrust into John for a third time. His poor impulse control came into play when the fourth thrust was much rougher and harder than he probably should have done, but it was all feeling so wonderful. He was close now.

John coughed almost right away, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to get a deep breath. Jesus, he understood excitement but it would be rather embarrassing to die because his husband's cock choked him to death. He couldn't exactly move his head, either and _shit_ his nose hurt. He was fairly sure he had smashed it into Sherlock's pelvis on that thrust and...that was blood. Good Lord, he had a nose bleed. Shit.

If John hadn't coughed, Sherlock probably would have remained oblivious to the other man's plight in his excitement. He stilled, opened his eyes and looked down at his husband. _Fuck_. "John? Oh God, I am so sorry. I…" He trailed off, giving up on whatever lame excuse he had tried to come up with. He wiggled back from his husband with a wince. Christ, he was definitely still sore and that had hurt. But that didn't matter right now, John was bleeding and it was his fault.

"Fine. 'S fine." John pulled away instantly, sitting back on his knees and cupping his hands around his nose. "Calm down," he muttered, a weak smile on his face. Well, that was a first. Nose bleed while giving a blow job. Always a fun story. "You are fine." He slid from the bed, wobbling slightly before he made it to the bathroom and pressed toilet paper against his nose. Only they could have something like this happen, really.

Despite John's words of reassurance, what had happened was _not_ okay. All because he had lost control, which happened a lot during their many sexual encounters. Sherlock sighed in frustration and forced himself out of bed, ignoring the pain. He hobbled after his husband with some difficulty. He came to a stop barely inside the bathroom door, as he leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry," he muttered miserably.

Why was Sherlock apologizing? John had told him to do that and, honestly, he probably should have expected it. "Sherlock..." He looked at his husband for a long moment. "Don't be sorry." He grabbed more toilet paper, quickly swapping the completely red section out with ease. "'S fine, really is. No problem." He took an intake of breath through his mouth and turned to stand over the sink. "Battle wound," he added with a small laugh.

"No it is not. You are _bleeding_ and it's my fault." Sherlock followed after his husband the rest of the way into the bathroom. He couldn't bring himself to share in the humor that John seemed to find in this situation. It wasn't funny to him by any means and he was feeling pretty terrible about it. He leaned his chest into John's back lightly, arm wrapping around his husband in a small hug.

"Because I told you to fuck my mouth, Sherlock." John leaned back against him slightly, inspecting himself in the mirror. His nose certainly wasn't broken but he had taken quite the jolt to it. "Honestly, you are fine." He grinned and pulled the toilet paper from his nose, quickly grabbing more when several drops fell into the sink. Right. Far from over, then. "It isn't a big deal. I'm fine. Look at me, I am just fine."

Sherlock sighed into the top of John's head. It was useless to continue to argue. He would continue to blame and be upset with himself no matter what his husband said. He tilted his head down and began to place soft kisses along John's neck. He would find a way to make it up to his husband but he hadn't figured out how yet. "I love you."

Soft kisses. John closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "I love you, too," he whispered. If Sherlock didn't stop he might have a serious problem on his hands. There wasn't much he could do with a bloody nose and an erection. "How are you feeling?" He finally asked in order to get his mind off of the pain of his nose.

Sherlock wasn't even remotely worried about himself. All that mattered to him right now was that John was okay. His husband's question did make him aware of his own discomforts. He had a slight head ache, and his arse was sore. "I am fine." He continued to place kisses along John's neck. He wasn't trying to make his husband aroused, but to comfort the other man.

Think about something. Nancy and Siger shagging. Oh... _God_. John took a deep breath as that thought chased any hopes of an erection away, his shoulders falling as he pulled the toilet paper away from his face. No more blood. Always good. He let his hand drop to his side, the bloody wad of paper falling on to the floor. "Should probably get you back to bed," he finally mumbled, his words slurring together.

Sherlock lifted his head to look at John in the mirror. Good. No more blood was coming from his husband's nose. "I am fine," he repeated with a faint smile. Although perhaps John should lay down for a bit. He released his grip around his husband's waist and grabbed the other man's hand instead. He led them back to the bedroom and laid down on the bed once more, careful to lay on his side and not his back.

John followed Sherlock without a second thought, laying down on the bed and turning instantly to bury his face in his husband's chest. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's torso with a small smile. "Still owe you that blow job," he muttered against Sherlock's chest. That was something he really wanted because he remembered how much Sherlock enjoyed it.


	39. Chapter 39

* * *

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "You don't owe me anything. Just because I gave you one doesn't mean you have to give me one. That isn't how relationships work." A moment of hesitation as he realized he didn't actually know if that was true. "Do they?" Another pause before he muttered with a pout, "If they do then they shouldn't."

John laughed slightly and pressed closer to his husband. "Typically that is how they work, yeah," he stated against Sherlock's chest. "I mean, it isn't always the same thing. You know, like you make me breakfast so I make lunch. It is just a give and take." His hand started to run up and down Sherlock's spine.

Sherlock frowned in thought, his brows furrowing together. "I guess that makes sense," he relented but then added, "but it is still stupid." Relationships continued to remain a mystery to him. He had given up trying to understand them because as far as he could tell they didn't make a damn bit of sense at all.

"I love you," John muttered as he tugged Sherlock closer, his tongue darting out to run up his husband's chest the best he could without losing contact with Sherlock. "I know you think it is stupid." He glanced up at his husband for a moment. "I would really love it if you put your arms around me."

Sherlock smiled slightly. "I love you too." He wrapped his arms around John, snuggling in closer to his husband. He leaned his forehead against his partner's, eyes closing half way. "What else did you want to do today my dear doctor?"

"Be with you," John replied as he kept his eyes closed. It was clear he couldn't shag his husband and he was slightly hesitant to give him another blow job. "Unless you want to do something. I...don't care. I just love you." He smiled eagerly and met Sherlock's lips in an eager kiss.

"That sounds fine with me. Last time we spent just laying in bed turned out rather wonderful, I thought." Sherlock snuggled into John even more as he returned the kiss. He matched the pace set by his husband, one hand moving to run through John's hair. "Love you too," he said behind the kiss.

John slowed the kiss down and smiled as he pulled away, a smirk on his lips. "That was nice," he said as he pressed the tips of their noses together. This was something he would never get tired of. Moments like this where he had Sherlock all to himself. It made him thankful for what they had. "I am the luckiest husband in the world."

"It was," Sherlock agreed with a smile. He tilted his head down slightly, so he could look John in the eyes. "Obviously. I am perfect and amazing. So naturally I am the best husband, which would make you the luckiest husband." His smile twisted into a smug smirk.

"Oi." John playfully smacked Sherlock's chest and nipped at his bottom lip. " _I'm_ the one who broke the headboard. I win this argument," he whispered as he shifted, lifting his head to whisper in Sherlock's ear. "I want you to shag me," he said with a small lick to his husband's earlobe. "Slow," he added.

Christ. John was insatiable sometimes. Sherlock wasn't feeling up to another shagging, at least not right now. He was still sore from the last one. However, he had promised his husband anything he wanted for the day. So, he tried to help get himself in the mood. He pressed into John as he scratched lightly at his husband's back.

John let out a small sigh of contentment, his head dropping as he pressed back into Sherlock. His husband had been hard during the blow job so it might not take much. "Love your cock, want you," he whispered as he rocked slowly against Sherlock. "Please."

Focus. Concentrate. Make John happy. Sherlock turned his head and began to nibble lightly on his husband's neck. He continued to squirm into his partner and rolled over so he could be on top of John. Having gotten hard earlier, it didn't take long for his cock to get hard again. He was a little surprised, considering he was lacking his usual excitement.

God, yes. John spread his legs instantly so Sherlock could settle between them, letting his head fall back to expose more of his neck. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and moaned, his hands moving to scratch at Sherlock's back. "Ah, there." He moved a hand into his husband's hair, giving it a slight tug.

Sherlock couldn't help but growl from the tug at his hair. It was practically a guaranteed way to get him turned on and _fast_. The sudden arousal damn near made him forget about lube but he calmed himself in time. He leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed the first bottle his hand touched. When he opened it the smell of chocolate met his nose, the label said it was edible. He had an overwhelming desire to smear it all over John's body, except he wasn't in control. That definitely would be taking away from it. He settled for prepping his husband and then himself.

John could read his husband's face easily in situations like this and the smell of chocolate was hard to miss. There was no way he was passing up a situation like this. "Do it," he practically begged, reaching shakily for the lube and spreading some on his stomach. "God, please do it." He wrapped his head around the back of Sherlock's neck and gave a small tug so he would move.

Sherlock began applying the chocolate flavored lubricant on John. He spread it all over his husband's shoulders, chest and stomach. It wasn't thick like syrup, rather a bit runny so he didn't make the layers thick. Some still dripped off of John and onto the sheets. God this was going to be a glorious mess. He bent down to begin licking it off his husband and at the same time he thrust inside of John with moan.

John had been so focused on everything being applied to his body that the thrust made him shout, his nails digging into Sherlock's arms. "Oh, Jesus," he moaned and pressed back against his husband, his back arching up off the bed. He moved and slowly wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist as his nails scratched down Sherlock's arms.

At this rate Sherlock wasn't sure if he would be able to shag his husband slowly like he had been asked. He continued to lick the flavored lube off of John, moaning and growling into the skin. He managed a moderate pace into his husband, his moans getting louder.

John gasped and lifted his head to watch Sherlock, his mouth wide open as he panted for air. "God." He moved his hands to grab Sherlock's hips, tightening his grip so Sherlock would hold still. He paused for a moment and then roughly brought his hips up, moaning and letting his hands fall back to the bed so his husband could move again.

"John," Sherlock moaned, taking a moment to catch his breath when his husband bucked up into him roughly. So much for slow. There was no way he would have that kind of self control now. Once John moved his hands away he began a faster pace, moaning loudly into his husband's skin as he continued to lick off the lubricant.

The original intention had been slow but this was good, too. John whimpered, a hand moving to tangle in Sherlock's hair. "Yes. Yes. Oh, God." He slammed his head back against his pillow and winced when he heard the headboard crack a bit farther. "Ah, Sherlock, you feel wonderful."

After a few more rough thrusts, Sherlock came with a loud moan. The head board began splintering and cracking even more to the point that it broke. The bed lost its support, crashing them to the ground. He groaned, trying to land to the side of John so he wouldn't crush the man below him. He couldn't help but smirk proudly. "Uh, we will probably have to get it fixed now. Unless you want to sleep on the couch the rest of the time." Shit, that fall had hurt a bit but he hadn't hit or bruised anything. He gave his husband a once over, to make sure the other man was okay.

John tensed as they fell, shouting as they landed. Fuck. _Fuck_. He looked at his husband and laughed slightly, reaching out to grab Sherlock's hand wrapping it around his erection with a soft moan. "You will have to tell your Mum, she'll need to p-pay for it." He arched into his husband's hand eagerly. God, he was still covered in chocolate lube.

With the bed collapsing on them Sherlock had forgotten about finishing John off until his husband had grabbed his hand. He began a quick but steady pace around his partner's cock. "Mummy gave us her credit card, we can use that. We should still tell her though, she would be proud." He smirked at John, as he continued on with the set rhythm.

"Ah, God." John turned and roughly met Sherlock's lips before he came across his stomach."Sherlo-" He relaxed the best he could against the mattress as a blush spread across his lips. "Sherlock, we broke the fucking bed." He burst into laughter, curling into his husband and smearing chocolate lube over his body. "S-She's going to ask us why we bought a new bed! She can see that!"

Sherlock laughed with John as he glanced down at their bodies. A shower was most certainly in order at some point. For now he snuggled into his husband. "She will probably figure it out, even if we didn't tell her." He smirked a bit and then shrugged. "I know you said slow…sorry about that…couldn't help myself after awhile."

"No, don't." John grinned and flopped across his husband with another soft laugh. "God, that was wonderful. I egged you on, really. I knew that hard thrust would throw you over the edge. Worth it." He shifted and groaned slightly. "Ouch," he whispered. Maybe the fall hadn't been so nice on him. His lower back was hurting a bit. Then again, he wasn't as young as he used to be.

The smirk on his face turned into a concerned frown. "You okay my dear doctor? Shit, I'm sorry." That was twice in one day already John had gotten hurt and it was his fault. Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. Nothing ever seemed to go right anytime he tried to give complete control to his husband. He either took it back or something like this happened.

Oh, he had said that out loud, hadn't he? "I am fine," John whispered. "I have had some back problems since the Army, nothing you caused," he reassured his husband as he sat up slowly. His back popped several times before he twisted each way, making it pop more. "See? Nothing I'm not used to, alright? You are fine." He leaned to the side and gently met Sherlock's lips. He hated when his husband blamed himself for things.

The frown remained, his brows knitting together closely. Sherlock finally nodded at John's words but it didn't change the fact he felt bad about it. He returned the kiss, arms wrapping his husband carefully and drawing the other man into a light hug. More of the lube got smeared on him but he didn't care. Sure it was sticky and a minor discomfort but that didn't matter right now. He needed to make sure John was okay.

John smiled against Sherlock's lips and lifted a hand to tangle in his husband's hair. "I love you," he whispered as he pulled away. "And I am not only saying that because we broke the bed. I really mean it." He laughed and ran a finger down Sherlock's chest. When he was sure it was covered in lube he lifted it up to Sherlock's lips, a wry grin twisting his mouth.

Sherlock managed a smirk. "I know. I love you too." He watched John's finger with an arched brow, the smirk getting bigger. He took his husband's whole finger into his mouth and began sucking on it. He continued to suck on it well after all the lubricant was gone. After a few moments of sucking he began nibbling on the finger lightly.

That probably wasn't the best idea in the world. John whimpered slightly, watching his husband's mouth with his eyebrows knitted together. "God, you have got a wonderful mouth." He paused for a moment and let his gaze dart up to Sherlock's. "Don't comment on that. At all. I know, you are wonderful so naturally your mouth is wonderful." He smirked before he dropped his head and nipping at Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock smirked broadly, clearly amused by John's words. He continued to suck on the finger, moaning around it as his husband nipped his ear. They had a bad habit of getting each other all worked up when neither was in a position to do anything about it. Fuck it. It all felt wonderful anyway. He tilted his head slightly so John had better access.

John slowly pulled his finger out of Sherlock's mouth, his teeth clamping down slightly on the shell of Sherlock's ear. God, they shouldn't be doing this. It wasn't good because they had just shagged and couldn't do much. And they had broken the bed. He pulled away from his husband's ear. "We should wash up and go buy a new bed," he muttered against Sherlock's cheek. "Can you walk straight?"

Right. His husband had the right idea. They should probably end things before they wound up sexually frustrated. "I should be able to. Can _you?_ " Sherlock had gotten pretty rough there at the end _and_ then the bed had broke, which probably didn't help John any at all. He got off the bed carefully, standing slowly. He seemed to be okay and wasn't nearly as sore as he had been earlier.

"Yes," John said with a laugh as he stood slowly, turning to look at the sheets. "You know, new sheets, too," he muttered with a blush as he turned toward the table that was next to the broken bed, picking up the phone. "Going to call your Mum, see what size bed she wants." He stated as he hit speed dial and held the phone to his ear. "Maybe what color sheets she wants, yeah?"

Sherlock sat back down on the broken bed. He had hoped they were going to go shower, but that seemed to be on hold at the moment.

Oh no. What could be wrong now? Nancy was nervous when she picked up the phone. "Hello? Oh God. What happened? Is everything okay? Is this Sherlock or John?" She couldn't help all the questions. They tumbled out of her mouth so quickly, she didn't have time to stop them.

Oh. John realized the last time he called it had been because something horrible had happened. What twisted his gut even more was the fact that everybody now thought something wrong happened to them all the time. "It is John," he replied as he sat down next to Sherlock, wincing when the bed creaked in an odd way. "I was um...you know, just wondering. If Sherlock and I were to buy a new bed...for you, as a present, what size would you want it to be?"

Relief flooded Nancy. "Oh thank God." She hesitated and then cleared her throat as she regained her composure. "Sorry about that, guess I got a little carried away there." John's question finally registered and her brows crinkled together in confusion. "A new bed? Oh..." She smirked in realization. "King is fine. Good day then?"

Of course she knew. Every Holmes had an uncanny ability to figure everything out. "Yes," he finally mumbled as a blush spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He shifted to lean against his husband. "Right. It was...Sorry about your bed." He closed his eyes and turned to press his face into the side of Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smirked, wrapping an arm around John. He gave a gentle kiss to the top of his husband's head.

Nancy laughed. "It is fine. Just have Sherlock use the card I gave him. Gregory and Mycroft are at work, and I hear Amy waking from her nap. I should go." She paused. "Do you want to talk to her?"

John put the phone on speaker instantly. "Of course I would," he said with a grin. "I would love to talk to her." He looked up at his husband for a moment. Amy. God he loved Amy. "She hasn't been horrible, has she? We owe you so much for watching her."

Nancy smiled, putting the phone on speaker as well. "She doesn't sleep as much, so she gets cranky from time to time but she is having a ball with grandma." She walked to the nursery she had set up for Amy and picked up the infant carefully, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Amy, your daddies want to talk to you."

"Hi baby girl." John grinned and pressed himself closer to Sherlock. "Oh, I miss you. You are a beautiful little girl." He closed his eyes and sighed contently. "Behave for Grandma, Amy. Sleep for her." He held the phone closer to Sherlock hesitantly. He knew his husband was not a big fan of things like this.

With his constant and ever present changing life now, Sherlock was gradually getting used to moments like these. To his surprise, he was also beginning to _like_ them. He smiled at John before he spoke into the phone. "Hi little Sandi, if you be good Dad and I will bring you something when we come back home."

John smiled as he heard a small squeak on the other side of phone. Sherlock had a special way with words, apparently. "Amy Watson, you silly girl," he said with a laugh. "I bet you have grown so much. I hear you can almost lift your head." He turned and pressed a kiss into Sherlock's neck. "I love you."

"You hear that? Your daddies love you. John, Sherlock. I am going to go. Need to change and feed Amy. You two keep having fun. Love you two bunches." Nancy hung up the phone.

Sherlock nuzzled his head into John's shoulder after the call ended. "Little Sandi being able to lift her head, that is good right? Normal development speed?"

John tossed the phone on the floor and nodded. "Perfect, yeah. Especially for bring born early." He placed another soft kiss against Sherlock's neck, letting out a soft sigh against his husband's skin. "I smell like chocolate lube. We should shower." His hand moved to rest over Sherlock's belly button as he nipped at a tendon in his husband's neck.

"Good. I am glad." And he was. They were lucky that little Sandi was doing so well having been born premature. Sherlock closed his eyes from the kisses on his neck, tilting his head slightly for John. Shower. Right. They should probably do that, but he didn't want to move.

John scratched gently at Sherlock's stomach and grinned against his husband's neck. "Guess I am pretty distracting," he said happily, his tongue darting out to lap at some skin. Things like this always made him happy. Paying attention to Sherlock was something he liked because he never thought he would have the chance.

"You do distract me quite easily." Sherlock smirked into John's shoulder. He couldn't help but nibble on the top of it, licking at any nearby chocolate lubrication. He brought one of hands up to run through his husband's hair lightly. They really should get up and shower, but he still didn't move from his spot.

Okay. Bit good. Except now John was fairly sure he wasn't going to move now. He gasped slightly against Sherlock's neck and moved his hand across his husband's stomach to wrap his arm around him. "Love you," he whispered as he moved to push Sherlock against the broken mattress and straddle him.

The shower didn't matter anymore and he followed John's movements without delay. "I love you too," Sherlock said into his husband's shoulder. He continued to nibble and lick it, his arms wrapping around the man on top of him. Despite some of the pitfalls, he thought this honeymoon was turning out to be rather amazing.

John tensed for a moment when he felt Sherlock's tongue on his scar. Deep breaths. It would be fine. He relaxed slightly and then pushed his shoulder forward slightly so the scar was closer to his husband's mouth. Maybe if he started now it would get better. He moved a hand to rest in Sherlock's hair as he pressed his nose against his husband's hair.

It was easy for Sherlock to forget about not kissing John's scars in a haze of excitement. He was about to move his mouth elsewhere when his husband moved the scar closer and not further away from his lips. He smiled, kissing along it ever so gently.

Why did that feel so good? John moaned softly. Oh, God. "God." He arched into Sherlock's mouth without a second thought. Perhaps he should have let his husband do this more often. "Yes, Sherlock." He tightened his hand in Sherlock's hair.

The smile on his lips got bigger. Sherlock didn't expect to get that response but he was very pleased with it. He moved his lips to another scar, continuing to kiss gently like before. The firm hand in his hair made him want to be more aggressive but he wasn't sure if John was ready for that. Not on the scars anyway. He found the third one with ease, and instead of kissing it he let his tongue run along it slowly.

 _Shit_. The newest scar, his left shoulder. John tensed slightly and moaned, lifting his head slightly look at his husband. "Good," he muttered as he slowly forced himself to relax. "Sherlock, please." He swallowed hard and let his head fall back, moaning again. "God, so good. Please don't stop. Please."

Given John's previous aversion to Sherlock being anywhere near, let along licking, the scars he never thought it would be such a turn on for his husband. He smirked a bit even though John couldn't see it. He continued to lick the scar slowly, his tongue forming small circles on and around it. His fingers began to trail along his husband's back gently, to add to the light touch sensation.

It was clear that Sherlock was a wonderful study of the human body. Specifically, John's body. He hissed at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers on his back, not knowing which way to bend his body. The mouth on his scar was sending jolts through his body, turning something so utterly horrendous into something that was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen."I l-love you," he gasped out.

Sherlock finally stopped lavishing John's scar with attention from his tongue. "I love you too." He leaned forward and gently met his husband's lips, pressing up into the body above him slightly. He couldn't help it. Sure they had just shagged _and_ broken the bed, but he liked having their bodies close together. The mess being made on them both from the lube barely even registered for him.

John returned the kiss before pulling away slowly, breathing hard with a grin on his face. "Thank you," he whispered. He figured Sherlock wouldn't know what he was thanking him for but he needed to do it. To thank his husband for helping him overcome the negative thoughts of his scars. He never thought it would happen. Perhaps this honeymoon _was_ exactly what they needed.

Sherlock smiled up at John. He was rather pleased with himself and his husband. That had been a first for them. Usually new things involved some sort of sex, but this had been different. It hadn't been sexual, well John had clearly enjoyed it but he had done it as way to comfort his husband. To show his partner there was no shame in having them.

John finally giggled and grimaced as he slid slightly against his husband. "We...should probably shower," he said with a blush. "Christ, did you use the entire bottle?" He dropped his head and licked some lube off of Sherlock. Not too bad, actually, considering what the stuff was used for. "And then possibly go find a bed and see if we can have it here...There is a fire place in the living room..." He trailed off slightly. "We should sleep in front of that tonight."

"Yes, a shower does seem to be in order. We were going to take on earlier, but we got sidetracked." Sherlock smirked at John. "The couch unfolds into a bed but if memory serves me correctly the thing isn't comfortable at all. Floor might be better. We could lay down some sheets and blankets. Carpet is nice. I napped on it wonderfully when you gave me that massage."

"I was thinking a little nest of pillows and blankets," John whispered as he shifted off of his husband and stood slowly. "Oh, God." He looked down and watched as lube slid off of him on to the floor. That was quite possibly the messiest thing they had done, hands down. He moved into the bathroom and quickly turned the shower on, stepping under the water immediately.

Sherlock did something he rarely, if ever did. He _giggled,_ when the lube got all over the floor. "So, I am thinking it wasn't for smearing on the body and probably for blow jobs." He smirked at John's back as he followed after his husband, leaving a trail of chocolate lubricant behind them. He stepped into the shower, standing so the water could spray over both of them.


	40. Chapter 40

That noise from Sherlock's mouth was beautiful. A giggle. John turned when most of the lube was off of his chest and took a step forward, slipping on the floor of the shower and slamming into Sherlock's chest with a grunt. Right. The lube was probably still on the floor. He groaned and tried to get traction with his bare feet, failing and pressing even heavier into his husband.

"Oh shit." Sherlock hadn't been ready to support John when the other man slipped into him. He slid backward as well, but came to a stop because of the wall. At least he hadn't hit his head again. That wouldn't have been good. He wrapped his arms around his husband to help support John. "You all right?" He looked down at his partner, giving him a once over to make sure no kind of damage had been done.

"Yeah, yeah." John nodded against Sherlock's chest and smiled slightly. "Sorry." He relaxed slightly against his husband. That could have ended horribly. The fact that they were that close to the wall in the massive shower was very lucky. "That was...yeah, sorry." He grinned and met Sherlock's lips in a quick kiss. He had nearly killed his husband. He needed to be more careful.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed the top of John's head. "It is fine. We are both okay." For once something hadn't gone terribly wrong when the opportunity had presented itself. Maybe their luck was finally changing. Except…he didn't believe in luck or anything really for that matter. "While we are shopping we should get those stickers that give traction to the bottom of showers, just in case." If fate existed, he didn't want to tempt it.

"Right, of course." John grinned. "You know, in case we ever feel like smearing lube all over ourselves again and taking a shower." He laughed eagerly and reached to his right to grab some shampoo, pouring it into his hand before scrubbing it into his husband's hair. Showering with Sherlock was possibly one of his favorite things. It was hardly sexual but more of something that he figured most normal couples did.

"Well, if we are going to shag in here at some point, better to be safe than sorry." Sherlock smirked down at John. He leaned his head down, so his husband would be able to reach the top of his head easier. His eyes closed in contentment, enjoying the feeling of John's fingers on his scalp. Showering with his husband was always nice.

"That is probably on our list next, isn't it?" John smirked and scratched at his husband's scalp. "I mean, we broke the bed. Shower would seem logical. Except..." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's temple. "I wouldn't mind shagging in front of a fire. You know, in the fire place," he whispered with a mischievous grin. He yawned, turning away from Sherlock so he wouldn't see it.

"We can shag wherever you want to. It is your day after all. There are all kinds of places and things to try on the list still." Sherlock smirked down at John once more and then moved them carefully so the water could rinse out his soapy head, blinking away the droplets that got near his eyes.

"Will you be able to do anything tonight?" John asked softly, looking between them as he suggestively raised an eyebrow. "I mean, collectively, we broke a bed. We might be shagged out and I only have until midnight," he whispered with wide eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"I don't know. Maybe. We can try at least." Sherlock bent down and placed another kiss on John's head. He reached for the shampoo, squirted some in his hand and then began applying it to his husband's scalp gently. He scratched lightly at the skin under John's hair, massaging the suds into his partner's head.

"That is good." John closed his eyes and relaxed against his husband, his arms hanging limply at his sides. "You have the most wonderful hands in the history of the world," he muttered with a groan of contentment. He could live with this for the rest of his life. Massages and getting his hair washed and wonderful shags. Marrying Sherlock was the greatest decision of his entire life.

"Of course I do. How many times do I have to remind you that I am perfect and amazing? Clearly this applies to _all_ things related to me." The smirk returned to Sherlock's lips. Once John's head was soaped to his liking, he moved a bit so the water could spray on his husband. He grabbed the conditioner next and went to work on John's scalp once more.

John relaxed against Sherlock and pressed his head up into his husband's hands. "Your ego doesn't even fit in this shower," he muttered with a smirk. He should have assumed that Sherlock would say that. "Don't care, you are amazing," he added with a happy grin. Having moments like this with his husband was wonderful.

Sherlock smirked. "I don't think it would fit in this entire beach house." He finished applying the conditioner to John's head and then moved again so water could rinse the suds away. He grabbed the bar of soap next and began to lather up his husband's entire body. When it came to time to clean John's face, he did it slowly and careful. He didn't want to get the soap in his husband's eyes or mouth.

John kept his eyes closed and rested his hands on Sherlock's hips. No talking. It wouldn't do good to get soap in his mouth. They had just shagged but, to Hell with it, he reached between them and gave Sherlock's penis a soft tug. Might as well entertain himself while his husband cleaned him.

Sherlock wasn't expecting John to do that and he squirmed into the touch with a soft whimper. The wall was still there to support him, so he didn't slip too much. He did however drop the soap but he didn't care. He leaned into his husband's touch, the majority of the water now spraying onto his back. Which left John still lathered in suds for the most part.

John grinned. Wonderful. He leaned forward and opened his mouth against Sherlock's neck, starting to suck on it with a loud exhale through his nose. He wanted to mark his husband like Sherlock did to him. He gave his husband's cock another tug and sucked against his neck with some more force.

Another whimper escaped his lips. His penis was still rather sensitive and the tugging on it made his body squirm even more. Sherlock tilted his head up for John, the back of his head resting on the wall. He wrapped his arms around his husband to help hold the other man in place and to draw John a little closer to him.

John took advantage of more of Sherlock's neck and moved his mouth up slightly to start another mark on his husband's neck. He tugged at Sherlock's cock for a third time, his tongue running across his husband's skin as he pressed tightly against his body. "Like that?" He asked softly.

On the third tug Sherlock pressed his lower torso into John's hand as much as he could. He was extremely turned on right now, his husband pressing him into a wall and teasing the hell out of him. However, once again nothing could be done about it but he didn't want it to end. "Yes. Don't stop. Please?" He didn't mind begging, not when everything was feeling so wonderful.

Sherlock begging. That was something he would never tire of. Nobody else got to hear his husband do it, that was personal and all his. "God, yes." He moved his mouth to the other side of Sherlock's neck and moaned into it. This was perfect and wonderful and John wanted to be in control more often.

Sherlock continued to press and squirm into John, his eyes slipping closed. He ran his fingertips along his husband's back lightly. "Don't stop," he repeated quietly. John liked it when begged and it usually got him what he wanted. So it served as a dual purpose. As much as he was enjoying this, it made him wonder why he didn't let his husband have control more often. Maybe it was because it didn't happen often that made him appreciate it so much when it did happen.

"God, I love when you beg," John moaned slightly and pressed into his husband. Hearing Sherlock do something like this was amazing. He did it because he knew John liked it. "Not going to stop. Sherlock." He dropped his mouth to Sherlock's collarbone and nipped at it.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk and be cocky. "I know." God, he was going to be a writhing mess by the time John was done with him and it would be glorious. Going to the village just didn't matter to him now. He could stay in the shower with his husband all day and he would be perfectly fine with that.

John squeezed Sherlock's penis slightly before dropping it, pressing his husband harder against the wall. "God, I want to shag you into this wall now, make you scream and say my name." He nipped at the underside of Sherlock's jaw. "Say my name," he growled.

Oh God, Sherlock loved it when John got rough and demanding. He really wished he was capable of shagging because he wanted to take his husband here and now. "John, please. Love you. Love this side of you," he admitted breathily out as his intakes and outtakes of air became faster and little threadier, as his excitement grew.

"Do you now?" John grinned mischievously and moved his hand to tug at Sherlock's hair. "Tell me how much you love it," he whispered roughly. "God, I love this." He pressed Sherlock harder into the wall with a grunt. Never in his life did he think his military attitude would ever work on somebody in such a sexual way.

This was getting out of hand, in all the right ways. It was fantastic, and Sherlock didn't want it to ever end. "Oh God yes. Love when you are in control and telling me what to do, when you are demanding and rough. Christ, I want to fuck you right now or you me. It doesn't matter, I just want to shag." He whimpered at the thought, desperate now to get an erection.

"So desperate," John whispered hotly against Sherlock's neck. "I want to take you in this shower and have you scream." He lifted his head and met his husband's gaze, panting slightly and scratching his fingernails down Sherlock's chest. "I know you want me to pound into you." He pushed a hand up and pushed at his husband's cheek, turning Sherlock's head and pressing it against the shower wall.

"Yes, p-please, yes." Sherlock practically never stumbled over his words but John was making it extremely difficult to think clearly at all. His breathing continued to become laborious, even though they weren't really doing anything right now. Just his husband being aggressive like this was enough to throw him into a worked up frenzy of desire.

Now all John had to do was get hard. He pressed Sherlock's head harder against the wall and reached between them. His fingers were slick with water, it should be enough. His hand moved behind his husband and he slowly pushed one finger into Sherlock's entrance. "Keep talking," he demanded with a nip to Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock moaned when John's finger entered. Keep talking? It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything except how amazing everything was. His husband being aggressive and now inside of him, it was almost all too much. With effort he managed to say something. "Feels good, John. Oh God, please don't stop."

John hooked his finger and pressed his body against his husband. "That's good." He slowly pulled his finger out and quickly pushed it forward. "Yes. God," he growled as he slowly worked his second finger in. "What do you want? Tell me, Sherlock. Tell me." He moved his hand from his husband's face and tugged at Sherlock's hair. "Wish I could shag you."

"Want y-you," Sherlock gasped out with a moan. John was in charge but he couldn't help but buck into his husband's fingers, moaning again, louder this time. It was hard to control the movements of his body when lust was coursing through his body like this. "Want you bad, please?" He didn't care how needy and desperate he sounded right now, because he _was_. "I want you inside of me," he whimpered out.

John grabbed his own cock, stroking himself and trying to get hard. "Fuck." He dropped his head and slowed the fingers inside of his husband. "Ah, trying." He moved his fingers as far into Sherlock as he could, biting down on his husband's shoulder. "God. Want to shag you."

Sherlock let out a throaty growling moan, enjoying every sensation his body was experiencing at the moment. He pushed into John's fingers again, this time a little more aggressively. He was panting now, small whimpers escaping his lips from time to time. Oh no. The water was starting to get cold. That wasn't going to help his husband at all. How long had they been here?

John turned and yanked the water faucet to hot, turning back to Sherlock with a snarl. God, he was getting frustrated. This needed to happen and right now it wasn't. His hand started moving faster and he pulled Sherlock's hair again. "Touch yourself," he muttered.

This shouldn't have been such a turn on for him but it was. Sherlock had never wanted John so bad before. He growled in excitement from his hair being pulled and then complied with his husband's request by stroking himself. Like John he wasn't getting hard but not from lack of trying.

Not working. Not working at all. John let his hand slide from Sherlock's hair and sighed. "Tonight," he muttered. "When we sleep in front of a fire." He pulled his fingers from his husband and collapsed on Sherlock's. Fuck, he had wanted that.

Sherlock supported John with ease. Damn it, he had really wanted to shag but it just didn't work out. "Yes, tonight. I can't wait." He kissed the top of his husband's head. "Perhaps we should get out of the shower now, yeah?" He smirked into John's hair, but didn't move from his spot. He didn't really want to, even though his fingers and toes were all wrinkled now.

John just groaned into Sherlock's chest, his eyes slipping closed. All of that power was exhausting, really. He didn't know how Sherlock did it. They should have been moving but Sherlock supporting him, their closeness, it was perfect. "I dunno," he muttered finally, a small shiver running down his body as the cool air started to sneak into the shower. God, why couldn't he just stay in his husband's arms for the rest of his life?

Sherlock held John in place with one arm, and reached behind him with the other to turn off the water. Once the spray stopped falling on them, he wrapped his arm back around his husband. He rubbed his hands up and down John's arm, trying to warm the other man up some. "Come on. Let's get you some clothes and get you warmed up my dear doctor." He kissed the top of his husband's head again and finally led them both out of the shower.

John followed Sherlock without a second thought, frowning at their bed. Curling under the blankets sounded wonderful right now. "Nest. Want it in the living room," he grumbled a bit like a child, grabbing every blanket and pillow he could. Sod clothes. He trekked into the living room, stopped right in front of the fire place, and went to work laying everything he had down. "Grab the rest," he shouted as he fell into the mess of blankets and pillows and curled into them eagerly.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he watched John for a moment. He went to the lien closet and got fresh blankets and took an armful. "See, told you we had extra sheets and blankets." He smirked at his husband and dropped the bundle near John. He walked over to the couch and grabbed the pillows from it. He plopped down next to his husband, curling into his partner immediately. He covered them with a bunch of the blankets, curling it up to their necks. His nose pressed into John's back, arms wrapped around his husband to help draw John closer to him.

John relaxed almost instantly and pressed back against Sherlock with a grin. "Mmm, good," he muttered as he pressed his face into all of the blankets. This entire day of control was turning out to be rather wonderful. With his husband pressed back against him, he could hardly ask for anything better. "I love you," he whispered as he moved an arm to rest on top of Sherlock's, his fingers scratching at the back of his husband's hand gently. He figured he could very easily fall asleep like this.

"I love you too," Sherlock murmured into John's neck. This was nice and relaxing. He wasn't tired but he was relaxed. He let his eyes close in contentment, giving his husband soft kisses along the neck and upper back. This was much better than having to go shopping. He didn't want to leave the rest of the day.

John shivered again at the feel of his husband's lips on his back and neck, sighing contently. God, this was wonderful. "Can we do this at the flat?" He asked softly, his words slowly slurring together. "Lay in front of the fire place, shag." He tried to force his eyes open but he was slowly failing. Sleep. God, he wanted to sleep. That sounded fantastic. "'M tired," he whispered.

"Sure, that would be nice." Sherlock continued his gentle kisses along John's skin. "Then sleep my dear doctor. I will be here when you wake up." He snuggled into his husband further, so as to help John relax and hopefully not have any nightmares. "I love you," he said again. Maybe he would nap as well. This was all so relaxing.

John didn't need to hear that a second time. He pressed back against his husband and slipped off to sleep almost instantly. Every dream he had was peaceful and when he woke up he grinned. Well, a nest of blankets and Sherlock wrapped around him. He shifted into all of their blankets a bit more before exhaling loudly. He had no idea how long he had been asleep but the living room was a bit darker.

Sherlock had fallen asleep as well. When John shifted he woke up slowly with a small groan. "Hey," he muttered sleepily. That was atypical. He didn't usually sleep like that. Usually only a few hours at time, but it seemed he had slept longer than that this time around. He stretched a bit, groaning again. "Fell asleep too it seems."

"I know," John muttered into the blankets. Honestly, he could have slept longer but he knew he needed to stay awake and do something. They couldn't just sleep their honeymoon away. "I could feel your breathing even out after a bit, woke me up before I got used to it." He pressed his back against Sherlock's chest with a small sigh. "Cold."

Cold? They had every blanket in the house on them right now. He was rather warm, perfect really. Oh. Sherlock hadn't realized it, but when he was sleeping he had bundled them all against him. "Sorry." He threw some blankets over John and snuggled into his husband some more, to help warm his partner up.

John giggled and let himself shiver slightly. "Bloody blanket hog," he muttered as he pressed back into Sherlock. "Do you have any wood for a fire? Want to shag you in front of a fire." He turned his head and tried to meet his husband's gaze. It was his day, after all. He wanted to take Sherlock on the floor.

"It is a gas fireplace. There are special logs already in place. All you have to do is turn it on." Sherlock resumed placing soft kisses on John's neck, as he pressed their bodies together as close as possible. "The lube is in the bedroom." He didn't want to get up yet, and he wasn't sure if his husband was ready yet. For now, he stayed close to John enjoying the shared warmth.

If they were going to shag, which John knew they would, that would mean getting up. He hummed slightly but didn't move. Right now he would rather stay with his husband and let him keep doing everything he was. It was too nice to pull away from. "Want you to lay on your stomach when I take you," he whispered. "That alright?"

"Of course it is. We will do whatever you want." Sherlock continued to shower John's neck with light little kisses. It would probably be better that way, considering the pounding he had taken this morning. He was still a bit sore and a different angle would certainly make a difference. His body squirmed at the thought of being shagged in a new position.

"Okay. Not going to move yet," John muttered with a small smile even though Sherlock couldn't see it. "Like laying here with you." He grinned and pressed back into Sherlock's body, moving his legs to tangle with his husband's. It was such a tough choice. Lay here and snuggle or get up to get what they would need. He was having some trouble with that choice. "How are you doing?"

Sherlock smirked. Not moving sounded wonderful to him. "Yes, laying here with you nice." Maybe they could spend a real whole day just snuggling like this. He had come to find that he quite enjoyed it. It was one of those pleasant surprises. "Hm? Oh. Still a bit sore but I am fine my dear doctor." He went back to kissing John's neck.

John grinned and sighed at the wonderful feeling of his husband's lips on his neck and back. "If you never stopped doing that I would be happy," he stated softly. "Please stay," he said. He didn't know if he meant now or for the rest of the rest of their lives but he felt the need to say it. "Never leave."

The smirk turned into a soft smile. Sherlock shifted, so he could continue the kisses but moving down along John's spine. "Love you. I will never leave you. Forever and ever, I am here and yours." He moved back up, still placing kisses as he went. He shifted again, so he could nibble on his husband's ear lobe lightly.

It made John laugh that Sherlock claimed he didn't know the meaning of foreplay. The man could practically write a bloody book on how to seduce him. He sighed and moved a hand to rest on his husband's upper thigh, his fingers curling to sink his nails slightly into Sherlock's skin. "Good," he muttered because apparently he could no longer form coherent sentences.

The smirk returned, pleased by John's response. Sherlock growled slightly from his husband digging his fingers into his skin. God, if he was in control right now he would crawl over John, straddle him and take him here and now. Oh yeah, they still needed to get some kind of lubricant. He pressed into his husband, trying to ignore his pulsating erection. Shit. He really wanted John right now.

Oh. That was definitely Sherlock's erection. In that moment John suddenly wanted his husband, wanted to feel him and _now_. Damn lube. He pressed back against his husband's cock and moaned slightly. "Changed my mind," he whispered as he dug his nails harder into Sherlock's skin. "Want you." It was little things like Sherlock being soft and gentle that turned John on.

At John's words, Sherlock practically leapt to his feet. Well, he would have if he hadn't gotten tangled in all the sheets. He managed not to fall but he growled his frustration as he tried to shake sheets off his long limbs. He all but ran to the bedroom and he grabbed a bottle of lubrication at random, not bothering to read the label. He dropped the bottle next to John, and bent to flick the switch to the fireplace. It came to life with a gentle flicker. He laid down next to his husband, so they were almost nose to nose. Patient. Usually he would have started applying the lube but he wasn't sure if John wanted to make out or anything else before shagging.

The sudden loss of warmth made John's eyes rip open and he managed to catch the end of Sherlock untangling himself before smiling. Apparently his husband was just as eager as him. He grinned when Sherlock was next to him, reaching a hand out and running it slowly along his husband's side as his eyes followed it. "Slow," he told his husband quietly. "Slow and gentle," he leaned forward to gently meet Sherlock's lips.

Slow and gentle. He could manage that…hopefully. Sherlock was feeling rather worked up and excited. He took a breath to help calm himself down. He moved in to kiss John. With his husband in control, his partner should have started it but if he wanted to have self control he needed to start things slow and easy. When their lips met, he let John control it.

They were snogging in front of a fire. John grinned slightly against Sherlock's lips before pulling away. "I am going to lay on my stomach," he whispered, his eyes still closed. "Want you on top of me." He reached between them to grab his husband's penis, giving it a small squeeze. "Want you to talk. To tell me what you see, how it feels." He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip. "And how bad you want to pound into me."

Sherlock nodded, certain as much as he wanted to shag John right now he would have agreed to anything. He whimpered from his husband's touch, his body leaning into the touch a bit. He scrambled to get the bottle of lubricant and when he opened it the smell of strawberry met his nose. While he waited for John to roll over, he smeared the lube on his cock.

John opened his eyes to glance between them, watching Sherlock's movements as his pupils dilated. "God." He turned quickly on to his stomach, his legs spreading slightly. "And pull my hair. Bite my spine," he practically hissed, lifting his blue eyes to his husband. "Please, Sherlock. Please," he begged like a child.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. John wanted slow and gentle but also hair pulling and biting? That was going to take considerable concentration on his part and he wasn't sure he would be able to if he was going to be talking as well. It was his husband's day though, so he was determined to comply with the demands even if they were a bit conflicting.

John kept his gaze locked intently on Sherlock. God, he wanted this so bad. How could he just sit there and smirk and stroke his cock? " _Now_ ," he stated fiercely, taking a deep breath. "God, now. Please, I need this." Because his dreams had been pleasant but he did remember one where he lost Sherlock, where he was stupid and his husband left. "Please," he whispered brokenly, lifting his ass slightly in the air.

Oh right. Sherlock had been trying to piece together how to fit in all of John's requests he had almost forgotten he was supposed to be shagging his husband. He moved to straddle John, and prepped his husband for a few moments. Shit. Now he was suddenly nervous. He was _never_ nervous during sex and now he doubted his ability to comply but he had to at least try. Hopefully he wouldn't mess this up. He entered John slowly with a moan, a hand moving to his husband's hair and pulling slightly. Vocal. He needed to say something. "Oh God," he uttered out as he began a slow pace.

"Ah." John pressed slightly against Sherlock's hips, pulling his lips back as he clenched his teeth. The angle was almost perfect. "Fuck," he whimpered and fisted his hands into the blankets, biting down on the pillow beneath his head with a moan. He yanked his head forward to pull his hair a bit more and arched into Sherlock's thrusts.

Shagging John had never required so much effort before. Sherlock managed to maintain a slow pace and he tugged a little harder on his husband's hair. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something else? Biting. Right. He leaned down and began biting John's back. In between nips he spoke, "Love being inside of you." Hopefully this was doing it for his husband because it was most certainly not working for him. Too many things going on at once and not in the good way.

"Yes. Yes," John's voice squeaked slightly around the pillow, his eyes slammed shut as he took in hard, shaky breaths. "Fuck," he shouted as he pressed his face into the pillow. "Please. God." He managed to calm himself. He pulled away from the pillow. "One hard thrust," he said heavily, looking at Sherlock over his shoulder. Being so commanding earlier had been helpful to his husband. Why not try it now?

Well, at least John was enjoying this. Sherlock was far distracted to derive any real pleasure at the moment. He complied with the request, thrusting into his husband roughly with a grunt of exertion. He continued to bite and pull with force. It was tempting to keep that pace but he made himself resume the slow and steady pace he had initially started. He still needed to say something. "You feel so good right now." He wasn't sure how long he would be able to maintain this. He was worried his erection wouldn't keep at this rate.

The rough thrust scooted him up slightly on the blanket beneath him. _That_ had felt good. "Fuck me," he growled. God, he had wanted slow when the slow kisses had spread across his back and neck. After that, after hearing Sherlock _grunt_ , he wanted it hard. "Now. _Fuck me_." He snapped as his fingers wrapped tighter into the blanket and he bit the pillow again.

Oh thank God. Sherlock could do that and actually enjoy it to boot. He began a hard and rough pace, with a growl and no hesitation. He bit down into John's shoulder blade with a snarl, lust completely consuming him at this point. He yanked at his husband's hair hard enough to pull the head up off the pillow.

John kept the pillow between his teeth, pulling it up with him when Sherlock pulled his head up. He moaned loudly and clamped his eyes shut, his arms straightening at his side and locking as his husband's thrusts pushed him up the blanket. The feeling of his body being pushed helped his erection slightly and he couldn't help but squirm slightly. And the bite on his shoulder was positively wonderful. "H-Harde-" His voice caught in his throat as he let out a scream and pressed back into Sherlock.

Sherlock slammed into John as hard and as fast as possible now, moaning loudly into his husband's shoulder as he continued to bite at it. With the pace he was going, he had to drop his hand from John's hair to the ground to help support himself. He didn't want his momentum to topple him over because that wouldn't do at all.

John should have complained that suddenly his hair wasn't being pulled but the feeling of Sherlock pounding into him, of the blanket running across his stomach as he was forced up the floor with each thrust, was too much. He whimpered into the pillow, letting it fall from his mouth as he panted and grunted into the open living room. At some point he had certainly lost control of the situation but he didn't care. His husband was doing just fine. "Y-Yes, Sherlock."

Sherlock came with a loud moan and he bit down excitedly into John's other shoulder. He began nibbling on the same spot, breathing heavily. He slid out of his husband, sliding off to the side a bit, but continued to gnaw on the skin between his teeth. He brought a hand up to scratch harshly at John's back. Even though he had climaxed, he hadn't come down from his lustful high.

John relaxed slightly into the blankets, letting Sherlock scratch and bite at him as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He felt like he had been shagged into the floor. The rough movements hadn't even gotten him off completely. "Fuck," he whispered. His entire body hurt. Bite marks, the scratches...God, Sherlock must have felt horrible earlier in the day after they had broken the headboard.

Sherlock finally calmed down, and the biting and scratching gradually died away. When clarity eventually hit him he muttered an apology. "You okay?" Shit, he hadn't meant to be so rough but he had been so sexually frustrated at the beginning he had completely lost it there at the end. He rolled onto his back, still trying to get his breathing under control.

John didn't think he was okay. He nodded anyway, pressing his face into the pillow. That had been...scary? It felt like Sherlock had lost control, honestly. Like John no longer had a choice in the matter. Granted, he had stuttered out 'harder' but he didn't think it entailed what had happened near the end. He had felt helpless. "Fine," he whispered, turning his head and forcing a smile in his husband's direction.


	41. Chapter 41

Sherlock turned his head to look at John. He furrowed his brows as he studied his husband, who was most certainly _not_ okay. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Well, that certainly hadn't been worth it. Sure he had gotten off and it felt amazing at the time, but he was feeling miserable at what he had done to John. Never before had he been so rough with his husband.

No. Sherlock wasn't supposed to know. "Fine. 'S fine," John whispered as he curled against Sherlock's side, ignoring his erection as he yanked a blanket up to his chin. The smell of the strawberry lube was making him sick to his stomach and he pressed his nose against the skin stretched across his husband's ribs. Better. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

"Do you…" Sherlock hesitated momentarily before continuing, "do you want me to finish you off at least?" He leaned his head into John's, trying to comfort his husband as best he could. He would have wrapped his arms around his partner in supportive hug but he didn't want to agitate all he marks he had left all over his husband.

John's body was practically begging for Sherlock's touch but for some reason he shook his head, taking a shaky breath and pressing his curled body closer to his husband's. He didn't know what he wanted now. Was this his fault? Shit. He hesitantly reached a hand out and let his arm rest across Sherlock's stomach. Maybe that would do, maybe now he would stop worrying.

Sherlock watched his husband, his brows furrowing further together in thought. "John, what's wrong? Talk to me? Please?" He could read his husband's body language as easily as reading a book. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what exactly. He placed a hand on top of John's gently, trying to give the other man some form of comfort.

John tensed for a moment at the feel of Sherlock's hand on his. "That was..." He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. Don't complain. Soldiers didn't complain. But...husband's communicated. "You lost control, I think," he whispered like he was scared. "You scratched me and bit me...I-I know I asked for that but...I felt helpless." He shook his head. Talking had been a bad idea.

Oh. _Oh._ Oh God, what had he done? Sherlock pulled his hand away like he had been burned. This was even worse the night he had caught John with Sarah. How was that fucking possible? He muttered apologies repeatedly as he stood. He excused himself lamely and ran to the bathroom. He needed something to make this better. Make it stop. Maybe there was something in the medicine cabinet.

Damn it. John struggled to stand, his back burning and that was definitely blood running down from his shoulder. He stumbled out of the blankets and made his way to the bathroom, standing in the door way. "Can we talk about this?" He whispered hoarsely, his eyes watched Sherlock's frantic movements. "D-Don't do this." He moved in front of his husband so he couldn't see the medicine cabinet as well. "Can we?"

Talk? "What the fuck is there to talk about. I…I…" Sherlock screamed his rage. He wasn't mad at John, not by any means. He was furious with himself. God. He was going to be sick to his stomach. He was hyperventilating and he slumped to his knees unceremoniously. His body shook with his rage as breathing became more and more difficult for him.

In that moment John dropped to his knees. "In through your nose, out through your mouth," he stated calmly, his hands on each of his husband's cheeks. "Just take deep breaths. Nose, mouth," he whispered. Fuck. Well, he had certainly ruined their honeymoon, hadn't he? One request and when he had struggled to break, or move, or do anything, had made his husband feel like this. He clearly didn't deserve Sherlock. "We can talk about how I should have told you to stop," he whispered as he pulled Sherlock closer.

Breathe. Concentrate on breathing. Sherlock managed to take a deep intake of air and exhale it slowly. "I'm sorry. I should have…I was just trying…" He trailed off, shaking his head violently. Tears were brimming in his eyes. "I'll uh…" He cleared his throat. "I will just sleep on the yacht tonight. You can take the couch since the bed is still broken…" He trailed off, staring at the floor, unable to look at John.

"Shhhh," John reached his thumb out to run across Sherlock's cheekbone. "I asked you to do that, alright?" He shook his head and studied his husband with a frown. "You are sleeping with me on the floor. We have made a bed there in front of the fireplace," he whispered with a small nod. "Don't do this, Sherlock. You are fine." And he was. John couldn't sleep alone. After last month he knew he couldn't. "U-Unless you want to sleep alone tonight," he added feebly.

Sherlock shook his head violently for a second time. "No, of course not. I just thought…didn't think you would want…Oh God John I am so sorry…" Usually being articulate wasn't a problem for him but every time he tried to talk, his words came out rushed and fragmented. He leaned into his husband, his head coming to rest in the middle of John's chest. "I'm sorry," he repeated over and over again. The guilt and contrition were almost unbearable and he felt the first tear roll down his cheek.

John didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Sherlock, holding him close and letting his eyes slip closed. "You are fine," he whispered. "I want to stay with you tonight because you are my husband." He pressed a kiss into his husband's hair. "I love you. I couldn't just let you run off like that." He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair. Keep him calm, that was all that matter. If he kept Sherlock calm then they might be able to talk a bit more. "You are fine."

Sherlock sniffled, refusing to let another tear to fall. John's arms around him had an almost instantaneous calming effect on him, his breathing evening out completely now. "I love you too." They really needed to start implementing that safety word, so nothing like this would ever happen again. "I'm okay now…I think…I really am sorry John." He finally lifted his head to look at his husband.

John met Sherlock's gaze and managed a weak, lop-sided smile. "I know." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips. "Cheesecake," he muttered into the kiss with a small laugh. Joke. Laugh. Make him feel better. That had to work. "I told you to do that stuff, yeah? It brought it on myself. I know I like it rough just...I found my limit today, didn't I?"

Sherlock managed a faint smirk. He gave a slight nod of his head, exhaling loudly and slowly. "I guess." He guessed that was supposed to make him feel better but it didn't. He definitely wasn't going to be in the mood to shag again anytime soon. Hopefully he hadn't ruined the rest of their honeymoon. They still had so many places and things to try.

Right. John had definitely ruined the day, that much he was certain. The only thing he wanted to do right now was lay down and let his body rest. "How about we go lay back down? We have still got a fire going," he whispered. He just wanted to snuggle into Sherlock and find some sort of comfort. Anything.

Sherlock didn't want to go lay back down but his husband most certainly _needed_ it. Not so long ago, he would have pushed John away. He couldn't do that anymore. He was married. He was a husband now. He had responsibilities that encompassed more than his own selfish world. He stood up slowly and offered a hand to John, managing a small reassuring smile.

John took Sherlock's hand and stood, pressing his face into his husband's chest. All he wanted was to curl against him and be held. "Don't leave," he whispered as he slammed his eyes shut. God, he couldn't lose Sherlock. He couldn't lose his only source of comfort. "I'm sorry."

Confusion swept through Sherlock. What? Why was John worried he was going to leave? Why was his husband apologizing? He wrapped his arms around his partner in a tight hug. "Hey. I'm not going anywhere." He placed a kiss on top of John's head and then rested his chin on it. His husband needed comfort right now that much was obvious, even to him.

Staying. Sherlock was going to stay. John relaxed fractionally against his husband. He was exhausted after that. "Sleep?" He asked softly. "Want..." This was going to sound weak and needy but he didn't care. "I want you to hold me. Please." He pressed his face harder against his husband's chest. What had happened to him? One mistake and he couldn't control his bloody emotions.

Sherlock wasn't tired but he would hold John while his husband slept. "Come on then." He led them back to the pillows and blankets. He turned the gas on a bit more, so the fire would burn brighter. Once John was settled, he snuggled in next to his husband. He laid his head on John's shoulder, an arm draping over his husband's stomach.

John tensed before wiggling against Sherlock, wordlessly moving down and curl into his husband's torso. He buried his face into Sherlock's ribs. All he wanted was to do this, to have Sherlock protect him, not snuggle against him. He wanted to be _held_. After he managed to clear his thoughts he relaxed and finally fell asleep.

Sherlock frowned a bit but when John finally settled down, he wrapped his arms around his husband in a gentle hug. "No nightmares for you, my dear doctor." He kissed the top of John's head. Hopefully nothing would disrupt his husband's sleep. John had certainly been tense before managing to sleep, but with any luck it wouldn't affect his husband's slumber.

No. No. John tensed. This wasn't Afghanistan. That was Sherlock above him, telling him what to do...using him... He tensed again and jolted awake, his hands clutching and clawing desperately at Sherlock's skin. Shit. That was not good. Nightmares about Sherlock. He panted into his husband's side as he tried to calm himself down. His partner couldn't know.

It wasn't that he was used to his husband having bad dreams but he did think it was a real possibility. So, when it happened Sherlock wasn't surprised. "John. Ssshhh. Just a bad dream. You are safe. I am right here." He tightened the hug around his husband, trying to comfort the other man as best as he could.

John tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded slightly. "I know. I know," he whispered. This couldn't be happening. Nightmares about his husband. All because he begged for it and didn't want to stop Sherlock. His left hand pressed against Sherlock's side, his wedding ring starting to leave a mark on his husband's skin. "Sorry."

Sherlock didn't seem to mind or notice that the ring was digging into his chest. "It is fine. No worries." Dare he ask about the nightmares? It had seemed worse than the other ones John had been having. They were supposed to be working on talking and communicating though. "Do you want to talk about it?

Shit. Did John want to talk about it? He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to look at Sherlock. "It was you," he finally managed to say. "H-Had a dream that you..." He felt his stomach twist and there was a sudden lump in his throat. He couldn't tell Sherlock. Maybe he would think it was another one where he died.

Sherlock waited patiently for John to continue. When his husband didn't, he wasn't sure if he should push the issue or just let John tell him whenever his husband was ready to do so. "It's okay. Whatever happened, it wasn't real. Try not to think about it." He was getting better at this whole comforting others things, or at least he thought he was. Maybe he should ask John, although now probably wasn't the best time.

Wasn't real. John could really go for a drink right now. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice a bit raspy. Dream Sherlock _had_ seemed a lot worse than the one comforting him, that much was sure. "Okay," he added as he forced himself to relax. "Are you alright?" He asked softly as he forced his gaze up.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. It is you I am worried about." He gave John another kiss on the top of his husband's head. Whatever the dream had been about it was obvious that John didn't want to talk about it further. Best not to press the issue. He knew he didn't like it when his husband pushed him.

"Worried about me?" John managed a bit of a smirk. " I am fine. I promise." He patted Sherlock's chest and nodded slightly. "It happened. I will move on. We both should." He nodded slightly and pressed his nose against Sherlock's side. "Are we going to let that ruin our honeymoon?"

For a moment Sherlock was confused. Oh. They weren't talking about the nightmare anymore. "We haven't let anything ruin us before, why start now?" He smiled down at John. It was true. In the last two years they had been through so much shit together and yet here they were still. There didn't seem to be anything that they couldn't get past, as long as they worked together at it.

John smiled and looked up at Sherlock. "Good." He started tracing shapes lightly on Sherlock's chest. "I love you." He placed a kiss on his husband's side with a small sigh. "Didn't mean to do that to you," he stated against Sherlock's grin. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt Sherlock in any way.

Sherlock put his chin on John's head, hugging his husband closer to him still. "I love you too." He was quiet for a moment. "You didn't do anything John. I should have never, _ever_ , been that rough. Not like that. I just…" he trailed off, not sure how to explain it. It wasn't even a good reason and really, he didn't want to tell his husband. It would probably just make John feel worse.

John took a deep breath. "You just what?" He knew that Sherlock usually cut himself off before he didn't want to say anything that would hurt him. But now, with their new-found communication, he wanted to know. Needed to know. "Tell me."

Of course John would ask. It was fine for his husband to push but not him. Sherlock sighed at his suddenly angry and irrational thoughts. "It is difficult to explain," he muttered. Now he was just being stubborn and child like. Just like he had been when they first met. So much for growing up and acting like an adult.

"It's not difficult to explain, you just don't want to tell me," John stated hesitantly. "I am not am idiot, you know," he added as he shifted against his husband. Now this was ridiculous. John bit his bottom lip and shook his head. "Tell me, Sherlock. Stop acting like a child."

That wasn't really true. It was difficult to explain. John accused of him being a liar and at one time that wouldn't have bothered him but now it hurt. He pulled away from his husband, staring at the floor angrily. He sighed. "It was your day. I was just trying to do everything you asked. You wanted slow and gentle but at the same time biting and scratching and talking. It was a lot. I was having trouble focusing but I didn't complain. Couldn't…not on your day." Another sigh and he shrugged. "I wasn't into it, but you were. And God John when you asked me for hard and rough. I just…I lost control. I _needed_ to feel something. _There_! Fucking happy?" He turned his back to his husband, because there was no way he could look at John after admitting that.

"Yeah, fucking happy," John stated as he stood up. "You could have said something about not liking it before you fucked me into the ground." He stepped over his husband and moved toward their bedroom, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. "Bastard!" He slammed his hand against the door.

No. No fighting on their honeymoon. "John wait…" Sherlock trailed off as the door slammed shut. He sighed. All his fault. All of this. He curled himself tightly into the sheets on the floor. The feeling of being sick washed over him all over again. He managed to keep his breathing under control but it was still heavy gasps of air.

Fucking wonderful. John would go into the bedroom where they broke the bed. He ripped the door open and moved back into the living room. "We shouldn't be fighting," he ground out, taking calming breaths. "So I asked too much of you. We just...found out that maybe we need to work on a small bit of our sex life." He sat on the floor a few feet away from his husband, not looking at him.

Apparently Sherlock hadn't heard what John had said because he began rambling quickly and desperately. "I didn't mean it. Didn't mean to…please…you have to believe me…I'm sorry…" He was rocking himself now, in a frantic attempt to comfort and calm himself. He thought they had moved past this. John hadn't been mad last night, but his husband was furious now. Not that he really blamed his partner. John had every right to be angry.

John hesitated before moving forward and wrapping his arms around his husband. "Shhh..." He tightened his arms around Sherlock and pressed his nose against his temple. "I believe you. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I believe you," he repeated. God, he had ruined their honeymoon. This was not what he wanted.

Sherlock relaxed and leaned into John's touch almost instantly. Breathe. For God's sake calm down. This was why he hated emotions. It made him an irrational mess. "I know it is still your day, but can we just stay here like this for awhile?" He needed it right now. Reassurance. That his husband still loved him. That this was all one stupid misunderstanding.

John nodded. Of course they could. Right now they just needed each other and he couldn't imagine just leaving Sherlock like this. "It isn't my day anymore," he finally whispered. "Don't want it. I am clearly not meant to have control." He managed a small laugh and ran a hand gently up and down Sherlock's back. "We are fine. We're going to be fine." He had to make himself believe that, had to make Sherlock believe that, or things were going to get worse.

Sherlock snuggled into John as closely as possible, even entangling their limbs. The closeness gave him comfort he could only find in his husband's arms. "Like when you have control," he admitted quietly. "We just have to work on some things still, I guess." He wasn't physically tired but he was emotionally exhausted. His eyes closed and his body relaxed. "Nap," he whispered as he finally passed out.

John supported his husband the best he could, closing his eyes for a moment. Today couldn't have gone any worse. It had started out innocent enough, just a day to do what _he_ wanted and here they were. He kept running his hand up and down his husband's back, whispering things in his ear to keep him asleep so he could hopefully recover and wake up feeling a bit better.

Sherlock slept for less than an hour. "Sorry," he murmured when he woke up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, even if it was for a short while. He had certainly ruined John's day. "Sorry," he repeated. He wasn't sure what to say now. What was going to happen now? Were they going to be okay? Or were things going to be tense for awhile?

"You are fine," John whispered as he lifted a hand to rest on the back of his husband's head. "It is fine. Don't worry about it." He smiled a bit. Sherlock had needed to sleep so it wasn't anything he was worried about. "Are you hungry? I could cook dinner for you." He turned his head and placed a soft kiss against his partner's ear. "I could make you something if you are."

Sherlock wasn't terribly hungery but he could eat a little supposed. It was the least he could do for John. "Yeah, that would be good. Whatever is fine with me. Surprise me." He rolled over to be face to face with his husband. He leaned in and gave John a gentle kiss on the lips. "I love you." He kept their faces close, their noses touching.

"I love you, too," John replied with a small smile, leaning in for a second kiss. "I can surprise you," he added with a soft smile. After a long moment of studying his husband's face, he leaned forward and gently met his husband's lips again, the kiss slow as he poured every emotion he could into it. He loved Sherlock and the other man needed to know that, needed to know how much he was needed.

Sherlock smiled and returned John's kisses. He wrapped his arms around his husband, to help draw the other man closer to him. This was nice. "Love you," he repeated and moved in for another kiss. Dinner could wait, he was kissing John. That was much better and by far more important. The kiss was slow but passionate.

John exhaled slightly into his husband's mouth, his tongue moving to run across the roof of Sherlock's mouth. Kissing Sherlock was something he could literally do all day. It didn't matter if his mouth got tired, if he needed to sleep or eat, he just wanted to constantly kiss his husband. "I love you. So much," he said against his partner's lips. "L-Love you."

Sherlock rolled to straddle John, it wasn't meant as a sexual move he just wanted to be as close to his husband as possible. He continued to kiss John, exhaling loudly through his nose because he didn't want to break it. "God, I love you," he murmured behind the kiss yet again. He needed to keep telling John that. He needed his husband to know it.

John moved with Sherlock easily, opening his mouth to his husband's without a second thought. They needed this. After everything that had happened to them. He lifted a hand up and rested a hand on Sherlock's lower back, licking at Sherlock's bottom lip with a shaky exhale. "I love you." He sucked at Sherlock's tongue and moved his other hand to the back of his husband's neck.

Sherlock smiled, staring down into John's eyes lovingly. He moved his lips to his husband's neck, placing gentle kisses all along it. "Love you so much John." He pressed their bodies closely together and moved his forehead to his husband's. He met John's lips once more, professing his love yet again to the man below him.

While the fight they had was horrible, John was fairly sure that everything after was worth it. Almost worth it. He arched his back slightly and pressed his tongue into his partner's mouth. "I love you," he stated the best he could, running his tongue along Sherlock's teeth. Passionate. Slow. He smiled against his husband's lips and pulled away to take a breath, meeting Sherlock's gaze. "My husband."

Sherlock's smile returned. He tangled their tongues together for a bit, enjoying this moment he was sharing with John. "Love you too my dear doctor." He pressed their foreheads together again. "You said something about dinner. I think I may have worked up quite the appetite." He smirked at John, but didn't move to get off. Instead he kissed his husband on the lips yet again.

Dinner? Sherlock was thinking about dinner? John laughed and pecked his husband's lips. "Git, I am trying to snog you," he muttered with a grin. "I would rather kiss you than eat." He grinned and lifted his head to kiss Sherlock. "Want to keep snogging you. We don't do this much."

The smirk on his face got even bigger. Things finally seemed to be settling back into normalcy then. "I think I could be talked into doing that." Sherlock continued to kiss John, a hand finally moving up to run through his husband's hair lightly. The other hand began to trail up and down John's side lightly.

John smiled the best he could into the kiss, moving his lips eagerly against Sherlock's. His husband's kissing never failed to amaze him. The man was an expert. He shivered at the touch on his side and turned his fingernails to scratch at Sherlock's scalp. "Love you."

Sherlock continued the kissing and light touches. "I love you too." He tilted his head slightly into John's fingers a bit. He pressed his chest into his husband's and couldn't help but squirm a bit into John. With everything that was going on, he was beginning to get aroused. Shit. Would that be okay? He hadn't meant for it to happen, but his husband had a tendency to have that effect on him.

Oh. John felt his stomach twist. That was Sherlock's erection. He took a deep breath and pulled away from the kiss slowly, hesitantly meeting his husband's gaze. "Hi," he whispered softly. Were they going to do this? He was still a bit scared from last time. He moved his hand out of Sherlock's hair to rest lightly on his husband's cheek.

Sherlock could feel and see John's hesitation. "I'm sorry…I didn't…" He sighed. Well, he had certainly ruined the mood, hadn't he? He rolled off his husband, but he didn't want to lose the close contact. He twisted his torso away from John but kept his head on his husband's chest. Maybe when John was making dinner he could use the bathroom.


	42. Chapter 42

"It is fine," John whispered as he moved to slowly straddle his husband. "It's fine," he repeated. He couldn't let Sherlock think he had done something wrong. "You are alright." After a long pause he slowly ran his hand down his husband's chest, his eyes following. "It's...fine."

Well, John wasn't making this any better or easier for him. Sherlock whimpered and pressed up into his husband reflexively. God, with John straddling him like this he wanted the man above him even more than before. "Want you," he admitted quietly. "But I would understand if you didn't want that…"

The man below him was desperate, that much was obvious. John took a deep breath. Did he want this? Sherlock was giving him a way out, letting him make a choice. He licked his lips and met his husband's gaze. "What do you want?" He asked softly as his chest shook with a breath. If they didn't move on soon they could have a serious problem.

Sherlock hesitated. He knew _exactly_ what he wanted, but shouldn't the question be what did John want? "Whatever you want. We don't have to, if you don't want to. I don't want you to feel like you have to. It is fine if we don't." He reached up and put his hand on his husband's cheek. "But if we do, I was thinking slow and easy. Gentle. I could talk to you."

Slow. Gentle. Easy. Talking. John took a deep breath and slowly nodded his head. Anything to fix what happened and Sherlock was really making an effort. "I think I can do that," he whispered shakily, pressing his cheek into Sherlock's hand. "I want you," he added with wide eyes. God, making love shouldn't be this nerve wracking but he needed to get over this.

Sherlock gave a small smile. "All right." They still had lubricant left over from last night. He reached around blindly for it under the covers until he finally found it. "Did you want to stay on top?" This wasn't about control anymore, it was about getting John to trust him. The hesitation his husband had was obvious to him.

Did he want to stay on top? John glanced behind him to study the lube in his husband's hand. "Sure," he whispered. "Would that be good for you?" He muttered nervously. It felt like he was a kid again getting ready to lose his virginity. He sounded like such a helpless child. After a long moment he moved down to gently meet Sherlock's lips, his kiss slow and soft. Distraction.

The hesitation was still there and was that…fear? Sherlock frowned thoughtfully but was distracted by the kiss that John started. He broke the kiss after awhile, looking up at his husband. He was most certainly not in the mood now, it felt like a whole new wave of tension had washed over them. "Guess it doesn't matter now?" He managed a faint smile.

Oh. John tensed and closed his eyes for a long moment. "Sorry," he whispered as he shifted to sit up, still straddling Sherlock. "I want to try," he said with a small shrug. "Can you...still..." He glanced between them and moved a hand to grab his husband's penis, giving it a slight squeeze and a small stroke. "I want to."

Sherlock supposed any other time that would work, but he felt like he was being smothered. Not by the physical contact but by everything that _wasn't_ being said. "I don't think so." He gave a small shrug. "Don't want to now anyway," he admitted softly. Well, he had certainly made a mess of things now hadn't he?

John slowly pulled away. God, he felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Now his husband didn't even want him. "Okay." He nodded slightly. Now he had to force himself to stay calm, to not break down. "Do you want me to move?" He moved to do so without his husband's answer.

Sherlock shook his head and grabbed John's wrist gently. "John, what's going on? Something is wrong. I talked to you, why won't you talk to me? Isn't communication supposed to a be a two way street?" Grant it, he still knew little to nothing about relationships but he felt like he was making progress with them and finally even coming to understand them.

John kept his eyes locked on Sherlock's hand and took a deep breath. If he told Sherlock then things might get worse, things might escalade. But his husband had a point. He needed to communicate with Sherlock. "I had a nightmare about you," he whispered as he lifted his gaze to Sherlock's face. "Y-You had sex with me and I was fighting it, trying to get away, and you wouldn't let me." He moved his wrist out of Sherlock's hand and intertwined their fingers. "I think I might be afraid of sleeping with you."

Well, that was worse. Much worse than he had thought. Sherlock was quiet a long while, what was he supposed to say to that? After a lengthy silence he finally spoke. "John, I would never do that to you. Ever." He wanted to ask why his husband would even think such a thing but he already knew the answer. This had indeed been all his fault. He had always had poor impulse control when it came to shagging John but it had gotten way out of control.

"I know you wouldn't," John muttered as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. "That is why it was a nightmare. Can't really help those." He tugged his bottom lip and chewed it between his teeth. "After last time, Sherlock, I am a bit hesitant. I won't lie to you." He took a deep breath and shrugged. Jesus. This was tough. "It scared me. _You_ scared me. What if that happens again? It isn't like you could really help it."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "If...we start implementing the safety word it should never happen again. Not that it should have happened at all. John, I didn't know. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you what was going on and vice versa. We...need to work on that, I guess."

John nodded feebly. Hadn't Nancy said something about people needing to be compatible sexually for a marriage to work? They were doing a decent job of messing it up. "And I know I was asking for a lot, Sherlock. I was being selfish." He shifted against his husband with a soft smile. "We will make it. We'll figure this out and be stronger because of it."

Sherlock managed a smirk. "So much for thinking I had sex all figured out." It was the one thing he had thought he was _actually_ good at in a relationship. Still had some things to work on it looked like. He leaned up to give John a small kiss on the lips. "I love you."

John returned the kiss. "I love you, too." He smiled against his husband's lips. "We will figure this out." He moved to push Sherlock against the floor and rested his head on his partner's chest. "I trust you. I know we will get through this." He placed several soft kisses on Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock smiled, eyes closing in contentment from the kisses John was giving him. "Yes. We have gotten through worse." And they had. So, this should be easy right? Except they seemed to be struggling through it right now. However, he was pretty sure they had gotten past the hard part. Hopefully it would get easier here on out. He wrapped his arms around his husband, fingers trailing along John's back lightly.

John relaxed against his husband with a smile. "I mean, if we can survive being pirates in a horrid children's story than we can survive this." He looked up at Sherlock and moved a hand to scratch his side gently. Maybe a bit of a joke would ease the slight tension between them.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I guess you are right." He smirked up at his husband. "Speaking of horrid children stories that knight and orphan still need to find their way home. I am sure I could come up with something." He was striving for things to be okay between them and maybe a ridiculous story would help. John seemed to actually like his silly stories.

"They could follow a bread crumb trail back to a magical house where they live happily ever after?" John suggested softly. It sounded ridiculous but both of their stories had been. He chuckled and shrugged, stretching to place a kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw. "Perhaps they could find Pirate Sherlock and Pirate John? And they all sail away to be amazing pirates."

"John, they have to get back home. Obviously. They need to get even with the evil wizard and make sure he isn't causing trouble all over again." Sherlock smirked a bit and then shrugged. "Every story is supposed to have a happy ending right? Well, getting stuck in alternate universe is not it. Especially not with the wizard running around loose. The bad guys don't win. Okay, they do sometimes…" He trailed off, as he realized he was rambling about a fictional story. Right. So, maybe he had gotten a little caught up in the story he had created.

John burst out laughing, burying his face against his husband's chest. "I love you, you ridiculous git," he said as he finally caught his breath. That was the reason Sherlock made such a wonderful father, he figured. The man was wonderful at stories to the point where he got into them and he knew Amy would love that in the future. "You are amazing," he added in a whisper.

Sherlock did something he did even more rarely than giggle, he _blushed_. He pressed his face into John's head, hoping his husband wouldn't notice. He had gotten carried away. Now he felt stupid and John was laughing at him. He cleared his throat, hoping to regain his dignity. "It is just a stupid story..." he muttered like a child. So much for getting his dignity back.

There was no mistaking the slight heat in Sherlock's cheeks. John grinned. He had made his husband blush. "It is a wonderful story," he said softly against Sherlock's cheek. "My favorite story and probably Amy's in the future." He lifted his head to meet Sherlock's gaze. "I love you."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "You think so? Maybe I should write it down sometime. Possibly published? Do dads do that? What if she hates it?" There weren't many things that could make him flustered and unsure, but raising a child was definitely one of them. He hadn't thought it would be terrifying, like this. In fact, before he hadn't even been worried but now it was something that bothered him on a daily basis.

"Dads don't typically publish their stories, no." John laughed and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. "You could. And who knows if she will hate it. She is...what? Three months old? She doesn't even know how to feed herself." He grinned and gave his husband another kiss. It was oddly endearing to see his husband all flustered like this. Especially over their daughter.

Sherlock snorted. "Well, I am not going to tell it to her until she is older obviously. When she is old enough to understand." He returned John's kisses, pulling his husband closer to him so their bodies would be pressed tightly to each other once more. He began kissing John along his neck and jaw, soft, gentle kisses.

John let his eyes slide shut and he relaxed against Sherlock. "You can do that forever," he whispered with a bit of a smirk. "Do you want to..." He swallowed slightly and reached between them, his hand resting lightly below Sherlock's belly button. God, he hoped he hadn't just ruined the mood.

Sherlock whimpered from John's touch. He was getting an erection again. Being so close to his husband and the soft touches and kisses were pretty much an instant hard on for him. He bucked up lightly into John. His fingers began tracing along his husband's back lightly. He continued giving light kisses along John's neck and began to move up to his husband's ear, where he nibbled lightly.

So that was a yes? John exhaled shakily and dropped his hand lower to grab his husband's erection, giving it a few strokes. Maybe he was ready for this. Maybe he could let Sherlock shag him. He was certainly excited enough. "Good," he whispered after a long moment. "I think I want you," he added. They could do this. It was their honeymoon, they couldn't just stop shagging.

"Oh God yes. Please?" Sherlock whimpered into John's ear, pressing his erection into his husband's hand with a small moan. Calm. Don't rush this. He needed to make sure John was really ready. It wouldn't do to make his husband felt like he had to. "Are you sure? I mean, we both need to agree to this. Especially right now." He stopped the kissing and nibbling to look up at John, a hand moving to his husband's face. His knuckles began running along the jaw lightly.

The soft touches were comforting John and he slowly nodded. "I am sure," he whispered slowly. "I am so sure right now. Slow. Can you talk to me? Is that too much to ask?" He kept his gaze locked on his husband as he gave Sherlock's penis a slight squeeze. If Sherlock was ready then so was he. The way his husband was acting was making it all better.

Sherlock smiled up at John. "That would be fine. Better than fine. Love talking to you, especially when it is slow and gentle. Would that be okay?" They didn't usually go through this, but it was needed right now. They both needed to be on the same page until they were able to transition back into shagging normally and they were comfortable again.

John nodded and turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock's knuckles. "Perfect. That would be perfect." He smiled slightly and pulled his hand away from his husband's cock, pushing the lube up the blanket toward his hand. "Do you want to be on top or bottom?" It was odd to have to ask now but without doing so he felt lost, scared. He needed to know what was going to happen and what to expect, which was something he had never really worried about before.

Sherlock grabbed the lube but didn't open it yet. "Maybe you should be on top. Give you a bit more control over the speed and pressure. You can see everything that is going on." It seemed weird to be talking about this but it was needed right now. It was like they were starting all over again. "Unless you want the bottom?"

If John took the bottom he would have to put his trust in Sherlock, would have to trust that his husband would control himself. "B-Bottom," he finally stated. That way he would know he could trust Sherlock again, that they didn't need to keep moving so slow anymore. "I want to know I can trust you." He met Sherlock's gaze. "I want you on top."

"Okay." Sherlock gave John a reassuring smile, running his thumb along his husband's jaw line for a bit before slowly shifting them so he was now on top. He finally took the cap of lubricant and applied it to two of his fingers. "I am going to prep you first." Again, not something he usually did. Before he would have just entered without a word. He waited for a moment, before sliding one finger in.

Oh, God. John gasped and let his head fall back, his mouth moving as he tried to thank Sherlock for the warning but the words just weren't coming out of his mouth. He let his legs fall further apart and lazily opened his eyes. He focused on his husband's face the best he could, taking his features in. "Good," he muttered. "Very good." He let out a soft moan.

This seemed to be going well. Sherlock slid a second finger in slowly. "Love you. Can't wait to be inside of you." After several gentle thrusts with his fingers, he removed them. He added more lubrication to his hand, more than enough really before slicking his hard cock. His own touch made him moan quietly in anticipation. "I am ready if you are." He pressed his erection lightly against John's hips.

Calm. Don't tense or give off any sign of fear. Nothing was going to happen. John nodded and spread his legs as wide as he could to give Sherlock room. "Okay," he whispered with a nod. "Ready." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and studied his husband as his pupils dilated. He couldn't be more ready for this, especially the way his husband was talking already.

Sherlock nodded and enter John slowly with a low moan. He leaned his head down and began placing soft kisses along his husband's chest and stomach. He was careful to avoid the scars, probably too soon to try that again. He began a slow but steady rhythm. He spoke into John's skin, "You feel good. Always love being inside of you." He brought a hand up to run through his husband's hair lightly.

John gasped, slamming his eyes shut. It was soft, Sherlock was talking. This wasn't anything bad. He whimpered slightly and let his hips lift to meet a soft thrust. "God." He reached a hand up to rest on his husband's shoulder blade, his fingers curling so he could hold on to him. "You feel amazing," he whispered, wincing when he realized he would probably get the usual reply.

No, now was not to be a cocky and arrogant bastard. "Not nearly as amazing as you feel." Sherlock moved his kisses up John's chest to his husband's neck. His free hand rested upon John's face and caressed it gently. He lifted his head so their gaze could meet. "If at any time you want to stop, let me know and it will be perfectly fine." He met his husband's lips with a gentle kiss. He continued his slow but set rhythm, moaning into the kiss.

Sherlock's words alone made John moan against his husband's mouth as he pressed slightly into the touch on his cheek. "Sherlock," he whispered softly, whimpering as he lifted his hips again. This was perfect and the most wonderful thing he had felt. After a few more thrusts John shifted to wrap his legs around his husband's back.

Sherlock continued to kiss John, making it slow and gentle like the thrusts. The fingers on his husband's face trailed down to John's sides lightly. The hand in his husband's hair continued to run through the hair. He finally broke the kiss to speak again. "God this wonderful. You are wonderful."

Each thrust calmed John more because Sherlock was controlling himself and every time he talked a blush spread across John's cheeks. "Love you," he said through a small moan. He needed to keep his gaze locked on Sherlock's face. "I trust you," he added, almost sheepishly, as he tightened his legs around his husband's torso.

Sherlock smiled down at John. "I love you too." He brought his lips to the man below him, continuing light kisses along the cheek, jaw and down to the neck. His fingers moved to his husband's bangs, his thumb rubbing along his partner's forehead. "This is so good John. Glad we decided to do this." He continued the same pace, moaning into his husband's skin from time to time.

"Sherlock." John exhaled shakily and reached between them, grabbing his own erection and giving it several slow and soft strokes. He moaned and let his eyes slip closed momentarily, lifting his head up to expose more of his neck. "Good. So good." His free hand scratched desperately at his husband's back. "Your cock is wonderful," he blurted out with a blush.

Oh God. Scratching. Sherlock's breathing hitched a bit and he paused in kissing to try and gain control. He let out a small growl of excitement but managed to keep the same pace. "So good. Like the scratching, please don't stop." He resumed his light kisses along John's skin, adding a few gentle nibbles. The scratching was really turning him on, he just needed to remember to maintain his self control.

John tensed because he _knew_ how Sherlock was with scratching. But he paused, he collected himself, and he...kept the same pace. "Fuck, yes." He scratched him again with a soft whimper. The feeling of Sherlock's teeth made him buck up into his husband. "I love you. I love you," he gasped for a breath and dug his toes into the blanket beneath him.

Scratching and bucking? "Oh God," Sherlock moaned into John's chest as he finally came. All the other sensations had sent him over and he went limp, collapsing next to his husband. He was breathing heavily. "John…that…was amazing," he managed to gasp out. The scratching and bucks mixed with the slow pace had been a strange but amazing combination.

John let his head roll to the side as he grinned foolishly husband. "Good." His hand fell from his cock and he groaned at the loss of contact but he couldn't move anymore. "Really good." He let his eyes slipped closed as his chest heaved so he could catch his breath.

"Here let me finish you off." Sherlock smiled at his husband, reached down and took John's penis gently. He began a slow and steady pace, like when he had been inside of his husband. He turned his head so their lips could meet and began a gentle kiss with John. "Love you," he said behind the kiss, adding a bit of tongue to it.

John moaned loudly into Sherlock's mouth. For a moment he had tensed, had felt fear, but the feeling of his husband's hand was better. He sucked at Sherlock's tongue eagerly as his back arched off the ground. Good. So good. He came roughly, his entire body tensing before he fell limp against the blanket. "Fuck. _Fuck._ " He turned and pressed his face into his husband's side.

Sherlock pressed his cheek into John's head. "Good, yeah?" He began running his hand along his husband's sides soothingly. His other hand wrapped around John in a light hug. He shifted a bit so he could nibble on his husband's ear gently. "I love you," he repeated. He needed to make sure John knew that.

"I love you, too." John's breath hitched as he felt Sherlock nibbling on his ear. All of the attention was perfect and he couldn't help but press his body closer to his husband. "So good. It was so good." He lifted an arm to rest across Sherlock's stomach. "Trust you."

Sherlock smiled and continued his light nibbling on John's ear, with a lick here and there. "I am glad." He drew his husband into a tighter hug. "I know you offered to cook dinner, but I can do it. You know, if I wore you too much." He pulled away from John a bit so he could smirk at his husband.

John smiled the best he could at Sherlock as his eyes slipped closed, humming as he rested his head on his husband's chest. "Good shag," he muttered as he tangled his legs with Sherlock's. "'M tired." It didn't take long for him to finally calm down and fall asleep pressed against his husband, snoring slightly.

Sherlock smiled as John drifted off to sleep. Hopefully no nightmares of any kind would plague his husband. He thought about untangling their bodies and have something nice for John to wake up to but his husband always seemed to wake up anytime he moved and slept better overall with him at his husband's side. He stayed curled against John, his hand running through his husband's hair lightly.


	43. Chapter 43

John woke up slowly, opening his eyes and blinking several times before he could focus on Sherlock. Right. They were on the floor and had just shagged. He smiled slightly and yawned. "Hi," he muttered with a soft smile. "How are you?" He stretched and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek.

Sherlock was happy John slept with no nightmares. "Hey. I am doing well, just watching you while you sleep." That seemed less creepy in his head but hadn't John said something about it being romantic? "How are you doing my dear doctor?" He leaned forward, kissing his husband on the lips lightly. He kept their foreheads pressed together.

John grinned against Sherlock's lips. "I'm fantastic," he whispered as he studied his husband's eyes. He didn't ever want to move. "Mostly because you did an adorably domestic thing by watching me sleep." He laughed slight and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. "Must have been horrid, watching me sleep."

"When I told you before I like watching you sleep, I meant it." Sherlock smiled and the kissed John on the lips again. He rolled over slowly, so he could straddle his husband. He pressed their bodies close together and continued to kiss John, deepening it a bit as he entered the mouth of the man below him.

John opened his mouth to Sherlock willingly and arched into his body with a soft moan. He sucked at his husband's tongue and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's torso. Kissing was always good. "Going to make me want to shag you again," he whispered against his partner's lips. "Don't think my body can take that again. I might short circuit."

Sherlock smirked but continued to kiss John. He ran a hand through his husband's hair and the other trailed along his partner's chest and stomach. He couldn't get enough the constant closeness they had been sharing in the last several days. It was becoming one of his favorite things and it didn't even have to be sexual. "Love spending time with you like this," he admitted against John's lips.

It was a rather romantic moment, if John was honest to himself. It was the perfect time to tell Sherlock things he never thought he would. "I never thought I would be here with you," he whispered as he lifted a hand to rest on his husband's cheek. "I never thought I would be lucky enough to call you mine, to fall asleep wrapped in your arms." He met Sherlock's gaze. "I love spending time with you like this because I never thought I'd have it."

Sherlock smiled. "Well, now you do and you get to everyday for the rest of our lives." That sounded okay, didn't it? He was still trying to learn what to say in moments like these, where John seemed to be bearing his soul. That wasn't something he had ever done but he was trying to learn. He resumed kissing his husband.

The rest of their lives. John smiled eagerly against Sherlock's lips, tightening his embrace as he deepened the kiss. For the rest of his life he got to wake up and snog or shag Sherlock whenever he wanted. The man was his _husband._ At the thought he moaned into Sherlock's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. Who would have thought that Sherlock would turn into such a wonderful husband. "And we will get to raise a family," he added softly.

"Yeah. Little Sandi will grow up to be amazing just like you. And our nephew will probably be just as annoying as my older brother." Sherlock smirked a bit as he resumed kissing the man below him. He pressed their bodies closer together still, legs tangling together once more. "Maybe we could spend the day like this, I enjoyed it the last time."

"I don't want her to be like me," John stated softly against Sherlock's lips. "I want her to...be the best of both of us. Smart and brave and...wonderful." He felt his stomach clench at just the thought of their little girl. He never wanted Amy to grow up, really. "And little Siger will probably get his bum kicked by our Amy. She is going to be wonderful." He tilted his head and lifted it to place a soft kiss against Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smirked at the thought. "Damn right she will. I will teach her all kinds of fighting styles. For protection purposes of course." He smirked a bit more. "And of course she will be amazing and perfect, because I will teach her how. It is hard work though you know. Maintaining that level of perfection and all."

"Oh, the hardest work of all. She is adorable, though. I think she will manage." John smiled slightly and pulled his head back to meet Sherlock's gaze. "I love this honeymoon," he whispered slightly. "But...do you miss her? Amy, I mean?" He shrugged and cleared his throat. God, he hoped he wasn't ruining the mood. "She is lifting her head by now and we are missing it. She probably smiles when she wakes up, you know? And it isn't at us."

Oh no. Not one of these questions again. Sherlock hesitated as he tried to think of reply, except he couldn't think of anything that would please John. He decided to be honest anyway, although his honesty seemed to start fights more than avoiding them. "Not really. I guess…I haven't really thought about her since we have been here, except for the few times we talked about her."

John did expect the answer. After all, Sherlock didn't have the biological pull he had to Amy. Every time he looked down at her face all he saw was himself. His eyes. His jaw. It was the most amazing experience of his life. After several long moments he smiled and gave his husband a soft kiss. "You are still a wonderful father," he whispered. "And she loves you." There. Fixed. Hopefully.

"Verdict is still out, on both counts," Sherlock muttered. Well, so much for laying around for a lazy day with his husband. He rolled off of John with a small sigh. Change the topic. "We still have to buy a new bed at some point. Today is just as good as any, I suppose. Unless you want to keep sleeping on the floor."

Damn. John had ruined the mood. He rolled on to his side, propping his head up with an arm to study Sherlock. "Sleeping on the floor has a nice little quality to it that I don't mind," he muttered, his free hand reaching out to run lightly up and down his husband's stomach. "Think your Mum would get upset if we just left it like that? Covered in chocolate lube and broken?" He looked up at Sherlock with a wry grin.

Sherlock shrugged. "Probably and even if she didn't it would be rude if we didn't John." He got up off the floor as he disentangled himself from the sheets. "I am going to go get ready." He was being a stupid, selfish child about everything again wasn't he? He sighed, frustrated with himself now. He turned to look at his husband. "Sorry, I'm being a git again."

So he had seriously messed things up, apparently. John watched Sherlock, pushing himself to sit up. "I...yeah, a bit," he muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Was it Amy? It was that question, wasn't it?" He shrugged and closed his eyes for a long moment. He needed to learn how to filter himself around Sherlock and not ask him questions that would make him feel uncomfortable. "I didn't meant to make you feel uncomfortable."

Sherlock shrugged. "No. Yes. Sort of. When you ask me questions like that, I know what you _want_ me to say but I don't want to lie to you. And you know that I don't think like that, don't you? I feel like you are setting me up to fail before I even answer. It's stupid. I know you aren't. I just, it is frustrating sometimes is all." Communication. They were supposed to be working on it. It seemed to be working better but only because it seemed they were fighting a lot lately. Even on their honeymoon.

Well, John certainly hadn't thought of it like that. "I will never pretend to know how you think," he started softly, eyes wide as he glanced up at Sherlock. "I guess I am just curious if you feel the same as I do about...everything, really. Amy. Our relationship. You don't know it but you have done some incredibly normal things. You say you don't know what normal couples do and yet, you just stayed here with me and watched me sleep. You stayed so I wouldn't have nightmares. Sometimes I am still awake when you whisper in my ear to not have nightmares. You are protective. You're...a wonderful lover because you are attentive to my body and what I want in a way that people are when they understand love. And Amy..." He shook his head with a laugh. "You sat up with her that night at your Mum's house playing with a light. You talk to her, call her 'Baby Girl.' Sherlock, you understand so much more than you give yourself credit for."

Sherlock hadn't expected that response but he was relieved. No fighting. Finally some sort of understanding between them, maybe communicating had turned out to work after all. He gave John a smile. "Yeah, I guess you are right." He moved so he could embrace his husband in a tight hug. He gave him a kiss on the forehead as he finally loosened his grip.

Good. John was praying he would get that response and he couldn't help the relieved smile that tugged at his lips. "Of course I am right," he whispered against his husband's chest with a small laugh. He looked up at Sherlock. "You hungry?" He whispered as he ran a hand down his husband's chest. He was starving, really. Anything sounded wonderful.

"A little. Do you want to cook here? Left over pizza? Go into town and find a local place? Whatever is fine with me." Sherlock released John and then helped his husband to his feet. Finally, a discussion that hadn't ended horribly. They were finally making leeway and hopefully making their relationship better for it.

"Let's go out," John stated with a small nod. "Find a nice place with...pasta or something." He stood on his toes to place a quick kiss on his husband's cheek. "And I will even dress up." He smiled and brushed past Sherlock, moving into their bedroom. He still couldn't help a laugh at the sight of their bed. "Is that alright with you?"

Sherlock smiled as he followed after John. "That is fine. Do you mean nice place as in _fancy_? Or just somewhere we can sit down and enjoy our food?" He got out one of his buttoned up shirt and a pair of black trousers, before moving to the restroom to freshen up a bit. He hadn't shaved since being on vacation and the stubble was starting to itch. He took out his razor and removed the hair from his chin and cheeks. Much better. He walked back to the bedroom and began getting dressed.

"Fancy. _Romantic._ " John smiled slightly as he slipped on a pair of his own black slacks, buttoning them before grabbing a light blue button-up shirt. "A place that will make me want to shag you in the bathroom it is so perfect," he added lowly as he tucked his shirt in and slipped a black jacket over his shoulders. "Or, you know, in the alley next to it." He reached into the bedside table and slipped something in his pocket with a wry grin.

"Why not both?" Sherlock smirked at John. He took out one his black suit jackets from the closet and slipped it on. "If not both then the alley. We have already done it in public restroom, twice in fact." The smirk got bigger as he grabbed his wallet and watch. "Ready my dear doctor because I think I know of place we can go. A bit of a walk though, if that is all right with you."

God, he had forgotten about their sexual escapades in the bathrooms. John blushed at the thought and moved toward Sherlock, grabbing his husband's hand and lacing their fingers together. "Alley," he whispered with a squeeze to Sherlock's hand. They were actually going to do this, weren't they? Shagging in an alley...that was not something he ever thought he would do. "I am all right with a walk." He nodded and looked up at Sherlock, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I hope the food is good."

Sherlock smirked. "God I can't wait to shag you in an alleyway. Speaking of…" He trailed off as he grabbed one of the many lubricant samples he had acquired before coming on the honeymoon. "Not flavored but it is scented. According to the package, it smells like vanilla. Not edible." The smirk got bigger as he placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He walked them out of the bedroom, house and then began leading them toward town.

"Might as well make our public shag smell good," John commented softly with a low laugh. If he didn't stop constantly thinking about it he would back out. He just had to move forward and do it. That was it. "So this place you are taking us to. For lunch, you know, you have heard of it or something?" He didn't look at his husband, instead letting his eyes wander the small buildings of the village. His eyes darted to the ground the moment he saw a sign for the wine building. No need to be reminded of that. "Are we going because it has wonderful food or because it has a location where you will be able to throw me over your shoulder and take me straight into an alley?"

Sherlock glanced at his husband with a smirk and then shook his head. "We went once, when I was little. Only fancy restaurant I know of around here. Hopefully it is still there, it has been a few years. And food in small towns is always good, at least that is what Mum always says." He gave a slight shrug. "The menus might be all in Italian, so I may need to translate. They don't get many visitors around here, except for the Holmes family."

Of course the only real visitors were the Holmes family. John managed a bit of a laugh and moved slightly closer to his husband as they walked, squeezing Sherlock's hand again. "I just really want something...amazing. I can't get enough of the food here," he stated as he watched a building curiously and continued to walk. "I just want some pasta. Chicken." He groaned at just the thought.

"Well, we uh…" Sherlock coughed. "We practically own the town. Don't ask." He shrugged a bit. "I guess it is why I never came back here after growing up. Reminded me too much of the family. When I suggested southern Italy for the honeymoon, I hadn't even thought of this place to be honest. Mummy insisted though." Another shrug and he turned them down a narrow cobblestone road. "At the end of the road is the restaurant."

Sherlock was going to just drop that information and then keep walking? John's feet stopped moving on their own and his hand slipped from his husband's. "You... _own_ this town? You are joking. This is...the most amazingly ridiculous thing I have ever heard of." He forced his feet to move and slowly caught up with his husband, eyes wide as he looked around. "Own...I don't even own a bloody flat."

Sherlock paused half way down the narrow road to wait for John. He smirked a bit. " _I_ don't own it. Dad did. I wasn't there for the will reading, so I don't know if he relinquished ownership of it, or kept it in the family. Dad was stationed down this way before he met Mummy. The Queen had a thing for Dad. He saved Italy. She wanted to thank him. Dad didn't want it but technically he owned it. There is a legal documentation about it at the manor. Boring story, I never really listened to, but that is the basic jest of it. Mum and Mycroft know more about it than I do." His older brother had always fancied all of dad's stories.

John just laughed, studying his husband. The things he heard from Sherlock were always a bit shocking. "How did your parents even meet? Your Mum...is not at all like your Dad," he stated seriously. Then again, they weren't anything like each other either.

"You should ask my Mum sometime, she loves to tell that story. She would be disappointed if she didn't get to." Sherlock smirked a bit and then shrugged. "But it is a bit weird that they got on. She is too good for him, I always thought. But they worked somehow. Come on now, let's go have a romantic, Italian dinner." He grabbed his husband by the hand gently and lead them inside of the restaurant.

John was about to respond but the tiny restaurant took his breath away. Quaint. Small. He looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "This...is perfect," he whispered as he squeezed his husband's hand. "You romantic sod." He stood on his toes and placed an open mouthed kiss on Sherlock's neck, his tongue lapping at the skin for a moment. A promise of things to come.

Sherlock smirked and tried not to squirm from John's tongue. God, at this rate he was going to want to shag his husband before dinner. He calmed himself down and talked to the maître d' in Italian briefly. The man smiled warmly, nodded and then led them to a table in the back that seated two. When the man left, his smirk got bigger as he looked at John. "Usually, this place is reservation only but being a Holmes has its advantages."

John followed Sherlock and sat down, glancing around with a smile. "You might have to order for me," he stated softly as his foot moved under the table to lightly tap his husband's. "I want one tall and handsome consulting detective with a side of alley shagging at the end of the night." He grinned at Sherlock and licked his lips.

"If you aren't careful, I am going to have dessert before the main course." Sherlock smirked a bit before glancing down at the menu. "Chicken you said? Well, they have chicken parmesan. Chicken cacciatore, which is basically just chicken marinated in a base of tomatoes and a bit of wine. There is Vittorio's grilled chicken: it has sage, rosemary, garlic, a little bit of salt and pepper and olive oil. Personally, I am going to have effectively ravioli with meat and mushrooms."

John listened to his husband with a proud smirk on his face. "The tomato based one," he stated with a sure nod. It sounded delicious and he couldn't read the menu at all. He wasn't even going to try. "And for dessert." His foot shifted and ran slightly up Sherlock's leg. He had to drop a bit lower in his chair to reach. "God, I want you."

Sherlock was about to call the maître d' over when he felt John's foot. Christ. He wished they had gone to the alley first at this rate. He thought about getting up and leading his husband to the bathroom, but if they did then they wouldn't be able to shag in the alley. He squirmed a bit at his thoughts. "I want you too, but if you really want to shag in an alley then we are going to have to be patient. Unless you would rather find the restroom and take a rain check on the alley?"

John let his foot fall slowly. "Alley," he said with a small smile. "I will try to keep my hands off of you as long as possible," he added as his hands folded together on the table. Calm. Enticing his husband had seemed like a wonderful idea. Working him beforehand would possibly result in a wonderful shag but he didn't want to ruin their dinner. "I brought a blindfold for you," he added softly trying to look interested in the menu.

Sherlock was distracted once more from ordering at the mention of a blindfold. "Really? For me or you to wear?" God, with the way things were going he wasn't sure he was going to be able to wait until after they had finished eating. He squirmed even more, biting his lip to muffle his small whimper. Just talking about it shouldn't be such a turn on, but they were going to be shagging in an alleyway and one of them would be wearing a blindfold. He could hardly contain himself with all the mental images, although admittedly he didn't want to.

John smiled a bit and shrugged, managing to not look up at Sherlock. "I didn't really decide. If you want to wear it, you can," he stated with a deep breath. The thoughts were in his head now. Sherlock blindfolded, shagging him while he was pressed against a brick wall his legs wrapped around his husband's torso. His breath hitched and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat. "I can. Your choice, I think. You found such a wonderful place for dinner and it was your idea to shag in the alley in the first place."

Were things getting better or worse? Sherlock was writhing in his chair now. Shagging John into a wall, in an alley, while he wore a blindfold was overpowering his entire thought process right now. "Not sure I am going to be able to wait much longer my dear doctor." He had whipped up quite the fantasy in his head. Eating was the last thing on his mind now.

Oh. Well. "How long do you think it is going to take?" John asked as he slowly set his menu down. Perhaps they could order, run out real fast, and then come back in. Hell, Sherlock was a _Holmes._ They literally owned the town. "Talk to the owner, say that we forgot something." He pushed his chair back slightly because now it sounded like a real option.

"Oh God _yes._ " Sherlock pushed the chair back and stumbled out of it, hoping the erection in his trousers didn't show too much. He practically yanked John out of the chair in his excited state as he walked by, muttering something in Italian on the way out the door. When they were safely out of sight in the alley, he backed his husband into a wall and began kissing the other man aggressively with a growl.

It all happened so fast that the moment John was pressed against the brick wall and grunted, his mouth opening slightly for his husband. They were actually in an alley. That was Sherlock's erection pressed against him. He moaned and reached between them, spreading his legs a bit so he could cup his husband through his pants. Maybe he shouldn't have worked Sherlock up so much.

Sherlock moaned into John's mouth when his husband touched him through his trousers. "Lube. Blindfold," he panted out when he finally broke the kiss. Eager and excited was the best way to describe his current state of mind. He wrestled with his trousers in his haste but finally got them undone. He reached into his suit jacket and grabbed the small package of lubricant. He ripped it open with his teeth, grimacing at the small taste he got. Definitely vanilla. He began applying it to his already hard cock.

John took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down for a moment. No fear. Everything was fine. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the black blindfold, slipping it between his teeth as he moved to undo his trousers. He froze for a moment, watching his husband stroke and prepare himself. "God," he whispered, his hips moving forward slightly before he managed to undo his pants. "Oh, God." He let his head drop back to the brick wall as he kicked his shoes off and completely pulled his trousers and boxers off. "Want you," he moaned again and lifted his legs easily around his husband's hips, pulling the blindfold from his mouth and covering Sherlock's eyes.

Yes. Perfect. To help support John, Sherlock pressed his husband into the wall a bit more. Once his penis was slick, he groped momentarily in his blindness and caressed John's cock before his fingers slid in to prep his husband. "Can't wait to be inside you," he whispered as his mouth found John's ear to nibble and lick on. The blindfold made the whole experience even better. More exciting.

John dropped his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder, moaning softly into the skin beneath his mouth. "F-Fuck," he muttered as his hips thrust forward for a moment. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpered. "Want you. God, you are going to feel wonderful." He finished tying the blindfold and wrapped his arms around his husband's neck. "Now. I'm ready. _Now_."

This was good. John seemed to want this as much as he did. Sherlock thrust into his husband, moaning into the ear he had been gnawing lightly on. "Fuck. Yes. Perfect. Just like I imagined it would be." He started a steady and moderate pace, one hand on the brick wall and the other reached down to stroke John's cock in time with his thrusts.

"Ah!" John shouted against Sherlock's shoulder, hissing as his back rubbed against the brick wall with each thrust. God, Sherlock was doing all of the work. He took a deep breath and dropped his hips as heavily as he could, bringing them up so his cock would slide through Sherlock's hand. For a moment it didn't register that Sherlock had said something during sex...things that he never said. "Fuck, say that again. Say it," he muttered as he nipped at the skin beneath his mouth.

Sherlock smirked and it took him a moment to comply with John's request because he was already breathing heavily. "I said,"  a breath, "that this was perfect." Another breath. "Just like I imagined it would be. Christ so good John." He moaned into his husband's ear, as he kept up his moderate pace. With being as worked up as he had been before they started he was certain he was close. "Not going to last long," he admitted. "Sorry." Just a little longer, he didn't want this to end too soon.

"Don't care," John replied with a moan. "God, fuck." He moved a hand under Sherlock's arm, scratching at the skin he could reach. It was new for him to have Sherlock giving him a hand job while they shagged. It usually happened after but he wasn't going to complain. His other hand dropped between them, wrapping around his husband's hand to help it move faster on his cock.

Scratching. Shagging in alley. _Blindfolded_. It was all too much for him. Sherlock came with a load moan, not caring who heard them at this point. He forced his body not to go too limp, so he could still support John. He leaned his head into his husband's shoulder, as he tried to begin breathing normally. He continued to pump John's cock.

At the feeling of Sherlock reaching his climax John tensed, coming across Sherlock's shirt with a whimper. Shit, maybe they should have waited. He shakily let one leg on to the ground, slipping slightly and bringing them both to the ground. He landed with a grunt and wrapped his arms around Sherlock with a giggle. They shagged in an alley, Sherlock was still blindfolded, and now they were on the ground. "We should do that again," he muttered with a laugh.

"Yes. Oh please yes." Sherlock liked that idea very much. At this rate, he was thinking he should wear a blindfold every time they shagged. Or was it just exciting because they were able to fall back into their routine of sex, without all the awkwardness that had been present last night. He slid the blindfold off, so it rested around his neck. After his eyes adjusted to the lighting change, he glanced down at their clothes. Right. Probably should have waited.

"We made a bit of a mess. That bloke in there might not like it so much," John muttered as he let his eyes slip closed. That was exhausting and he hadn't really done anything. Sherlock might actually sleep some tonight. "God, Sherlock, that was amazing." One arm slipped from Sherlock's back and he laughed softly. "I should blindfold you every time if you are going to be that amazing."

"I was just thinking that. That I should where a blindfold all the time. That. Loved it. Love you." Sherlock moved to kiss John on the lips. "Love you," he repeated as he rested his head against his husband's. At least breathing was normal again. He let his eyes close, not to rest but to just enjoy being close to John.

Sex in general had never been something that John had talked about. The fact that they had just shagged in an alley, in public, made him blush slightly. Anybody could have walked by and seen them. God, it had been perfect. "Love you, too," he muttered with a weak smile, opening one eye to study his husband. "I don't think we should go back in there looking like this. Perhaps I can make something back at the house?"

"If you brought your mobile, I can just order over the phone and have the restaurant deliver it to the beach house. Delivery isn't really their thing, but I sm sure everyone in town knows how well a Holmes tips. Unless service is absolutely awful, always tip generously. It's a Holmes rule." Sherlock shrugged a bit, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "If you didn't bring your mobile, we can just call from the house. Or were you in the mood for cooking?" He wasn't. He had used up quite a bit of energy just now and they still had the walk home to look forward to.

"Oh, God, we are ordering in." John reached into his pocket and pulled his cell phone out. He unlocked it, revealing the picture of Amy that Sherlock sent him when he left the hospital the day she was born to go back to Afghanistan. He smiled at the picture, looked at it for a moment, and handed the phone over with a small jump. "Food. 'M hungry," he muttered, a bit like a child, as he looked at Sherlock expectantly.

Sherlock dialed the number he had memorized at the registry where reservations were placed. He exchanged a few polite words and then ordered. Another short conversation ensued before he hung up. "It will be at the beach house in about an hour. Should give us a chance to clean up and what have you." He handed the mobile back to his husband, slumping against John a bit. He wasn't ready to move yet.

John took his phone with a weak smile, supporting his husband the best he could. The man _had_ done all of the work. "I might have to carry you back to the house," he muttered with a small giggle. "You look exhausted, Sherlock. Best shag of your life?"

Sherlock smirked a bit but shook his head. "I can walk, just need a minute." The smirk got bigger at John's question. "It is definitely up there." He finally stood up straight and took his husband's hand. "Come on, let's go home for now." He lead them back the way they came, toward the beach house.

John followed him sluggishly, a grin on his face. He was certainly up for doing that again. "Maybe next time we won't use vanilla. I smell like a cake," he muttered with a blush. The chocolate hadn't been too bad. In his opinion, unflavored lube was probably his favorite. Simple. Not too different. "Love you."

Sherlock smirked a bit, bringing John's hand to his lips for a light kiss. "Love you too." He continued to lead them through the town, finally getting to the beach house. "Want to take a quick shower before the food gets here?" A shower sounded fantastic to him. They had a way of relaxing and calming him down. The only thing more relaxing was snuggling with John. Maybe they should do that instead.


	44. Chapter 44

Shower. John nodded slightly and squeezed his husband's hand. "Quick one. Need to wash up and change into something new." He moved slowly into the bathroom, pulling his clothes off in slow, languid movements. "Pajamas," he stated with a lazy nod. God, he felt like he could curl into their nest of blankets and sleep for days.

Sherlock followed after John, disrobing on the way to the bathroom. By the time he got there, he was already naked and turned the water on. He stepped inside once the water warmed up, making room for his husband to get inside. Not that it was problem, since the shower was huge to begin with.

John followed Sherlock into the shower and pressed against him instantly. He couldn't get enough of being near his husband. "I wish I wasn't so ordinary," he muttered into Sherlock's chest. "I wish I was like you," he added as he turned them so the water could get to his husband as well.

Sherlock frowned a bit. Where had this come from? "You aren't ordinary to me and if you were like me, we wouldn't get along at all. Like…my dad and I. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a lot like him and he and I were like oil and water. Besides, I like you just the way you are my dear doctor." He leaned forward and kissed his husband on the lips gently.

"You are always so impressive," John whispered against Sherlock's lips. "I'm just...me. I hear what Mycroft says. He calls me ordinary and normal and...it hurts." He opened his eyes to meet Sherlock's gaze. He had no idea where this was all coming from but he knew he was tired and he generally talked like this when he lost his filter. "I know I am normal. Especially compared to you."

"Bah. Mycroft is dating Lestrade. You are _far_ more clever than the Detective Inspector. If anyone is dating someone ordinary it is my brother." Sherlock kissed the top of John's head. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are a doctor for God's sake. Who is ex-military. You are great under pressure." He gave his husband a smile. "There is nothing wrong with you," he repeated.

Hearing all of that from Sherlock, husband or not, made John grin from ear to ear. "I love you," he whispered as he listed his head and gently kissed Sherlock. "And you are amazing." Maybe this honeymoon was exactly what they needed. A month of being nothing but flat mates, even after the wedding, was now being overshadowed and nearly forgotten in favor of how they were now defining their marriage. "I am glad I married you."

"I love you too." Sherlock grinned back at John. "And of course I am amazing _and_ perfect." He kissed his husband on the lips. "I am glad I married you too." He wrapped his arms around John in a hug. He had almost forgotten they were in the shower, until he had shifted closer to his husband and the water sprayed on him some more.

John returned the hug eagerly, pulling Sherlock close and laughing. "Perfect," he whispered against his husband's chest. So perfect. The man in his arms completed him. How had he gone so long in his life without Sherlock? He pulled them both under the spray of the water, shoving Sherlock's head into the middle of the water.

"Perfect _and_ amazing. We can't have one without the other, now can we?" Sherlock smirked down at John, his eyes blinking faster than usual due to the spraying water directly over him now. He reached around his husband to grab the shampoo and first applied it to John's head, scratching lightly into his partner's scalp. "You know, one of these days we are going to shag in this shower."

John relaxed against Sherlock with a smile. "Wish we could do it now," he muttered with a sly grin. He opened his mouth against his husband's chest, his tongue running along the skin slowly. If Sherlock was going to scrub his scalp with such skilled fingers then he could at least return the favor.

"Me too." Sherlock almost lost his concentration when he felt John's tongue on his chest. He moaned softly, leaning into licking. He managed to finish shampooing his husband's hair. He moved them both so John could get rinsed, and his husband could continue the wondrous treatment on his upper body. "God, I wish we could shag right now."

Wonderful. John smirked against his husband's chest proudly and let his teeth run against his husband's skin. He knew that it wasn't going to happen but that didn't mean that he couldn't spoil his husband. "Tomorrow morning," he muttered as he sucked at Sherlock's skin, starting to leave a mark. "Please. Tomorrow."

Sherlock didn't want to leave the shower, but they needed to if they were going to answer the door and get dinner. "As much as I want to stay here and enjoy the not so quick shower, we need to get ready for our food to arrive." He didn't move though, instead he began nibbling on John's ear. They could stay just a few more moments, couldn't they?

John moaned happily against Sherlock's chest, his tongue faltering as he tried to focus. Spoil Sherlock. Focus. "Food won't be here for a while," he stumbled slightly on his words. They were going to be so sexually frustrated at the end of this. "Shag me," he begged.

Sherlock moved to press John into the wall of the shower and making their bodies as close together as possible. "Want to," he moaned into his husband's ear and then resumed nibbling and licking on it. God, did he want to but they had just shagged in the alley and had been shagging practically nonstop for almost a week now. So, it was unlikely he would be unable to do anything for awhile. Probably not until tomorrow.

John pressed his back against the wall, letting himself be pinned against it with a soft moan. "God, please," he pleaded. He sounded so desperate but he couldn't help it. This situation was heated and all he could think about was Sherlock and his mouth and how he _wanted_ him. "Fuck. _Fuck._ " His hips pressed forward several times despite the fact that he wasn't getting an erection. His body was moving on its own now.

Sherlock couldn't help the whimper when he felt John pressing into him. He bucked back roughly with a moan. Wasn't there a drug that could give you erections? Maybe they should look into that at some point, because right now despite both of their best efforts nothing was still the result. "Want you so bad." He was practically whining, begging. It was clear they were both ridiculously desperate. Maybe trying just a bit longer would work.

Even in school John hadn't been this desperate, and that was when girls were throwing themselves at him. "N-Not-" He cut himself off with a soft moan, his fingernails digging into Sherlock's shoulder blades as his feet slipped slightly on the wet floor. "Please," he finally muttered into his husband's neck as he lifted one leg to wrap around Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock continued to try but t no avail. Shit. This wasn't working for either of them at all. He heard the faint noise of a doorbell over the rushing water and their rapid breathing. "Dinner is here," he muttered with a pout. Damn interruption. Okay, grant it there was nothing happening but God he had wanted it. He reached around and turned off the water.

John slumped forward right away against Sherlock, panting for breath as the doorbell rang again. "Oi, calm down!" He shouted with a smile against his husband's chest. "Want me to go get it? My Italian is a bit rusty but I should be able to manage," he joked as he pulled away slowly from Sherlock, grabbing two towels and handing one off to his partner. "I don't know what it is about you, Sherlock but you turn me into such a whore."

Sherlock smirked. "Yeah, but you like it." He dried off and slid on his robe. "I will get the food." He grabbed his wallet out of his pants trousers and then walked to the front door. He had a brief conversation in Italian, paid the man and then took the bags of food. "So, it turns out this small town doesn't have a furniture store. We will need to go to the city for that. We can either make it a two day trip and take the yacht, or have my brother send a car to pick us up but it would still pretty much take up the whole day."

John groaned and walked into the living room with his pajama bottoms on, hanging low on his hips. "Up to you." He shrugged and yawned as he flopped on to the couch. Christ, he was exhausted. He felt like he could sleep for days. "I do like our little nest here in the floor. Granted, I don't really know how long my back will like me sleeping there." He glanced over his shoulder at his husband, his eyes locked on the food.

Sherlock set up silver TV dinner trays in front of the couch, since that was where John had sat down. "We still have wine left over from pizza night, do you want that?" He set the Styrofoam containers down on the trays. "And what about taking the yacht? I could teach you how to sail and we could maybe make it into one of those romantic things you are always talking about?" He looked to John with eyebrows raised questioningly.

Yacht. Sailing. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. "Yeah, that sounds good." He nodded and laughed. "No sandbars this time, yeah?" He took a small bite of his food, sliding the fork from his mouth slowly. "And wine sounds wonderful, _dear_." He grinned and licked his lips, leaning against the back of the couch and spreading his legs.

"We will take the channel up, no sandbars. Safe travel as long as the weather is nice and we stay between the buoys." Sherlock got the wine and two glasses. "Here you are _darling_ ," he said as he poured John a glass with a smirk. He finally sat down next to his husband. "And we don't have to keep sleeping on the floor you know. Couch turns into a bed, remember?" He opened his box of food and took a bite of his meat and mushroom ravioli.

"You said it was uncomfortable," John replied around a mouthful of food, accepting his wine with a smirk. " _Honey_ , I just want you to shag me against the mast," he stated calmly into his cup as he took a sip. He sat back and relaxed, a hand resting on his stomach as he set his cup down and took a third bite. "Do you ever wonder what made us fall in love? I mean, I moved in with you." He shrugged and swallowed his food. "And I thought you were attractive but I never thought we would end up here."

"It is more comfortable than the floor." Sherlock shrugged and then couldn't help but smirk. " _Sweetheart_ only if I get to tie you to it first." He shrugged again, quiet for a thoughtful moment. "I guess I never thought about it. And you thought I was attractive because I am perfect and amazing." The smirk returned as he took another bite and washed it down with some wine.

"I thought you were attractive because you were brilliant," John corrected softly, his eyes suddenly serious. "But at that point all I did was toss off in the shower and think about you. You told me you were married to your work and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life wanking while I thought about you and be happy about it." He took a small bite of food as a blush spread across his cheeks. "I always thought I was too ordinary for you. A soldier with a limp and nightmares. I wasn't the type of person you were supposed to fall for."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Why date all of those women? Or constantly insisting we weren't together? Why not just say something sooner to me?" Had he pushed John away that much when they first met? He supposed he had really. For a long time he had kept the other man at arm's length because he had been afraid to allow himself to connect with another person.

"Because I was trying to convince myself I didn't like a bloke," John said with a bit of a laugh. "You kind of just pushed your way into my fantasies after a while. All those women, though...they would at least shag me." He shifted on the couch and cleared his throat, glancing up at his husband nervously. They had never really talked about this but he figured at some point they would know everything about each other. "I was afraid to say something to you. I knew I was going to get denied but when I got shot...and you were hugging me and then in the same bed as me...I just knew."

Sherlock smirked a bit and nodded, before falling quiet a long moment. "I didn't want to care about you, because I didn't want to open myself back up to feeling emotions. I had gone so long without them, I guess I thought I didn't need them anymore. And I didn't, not for the kind of work I did. It allowed me to be more efficient, more thorough. When you got shot that day, I was scared John. Scared of losing you and I realized that despite my best efforts I still ended up caring about you and I figured why fight it anymore."

John smiled and kept his gaze locked on his food. Getting shot _would_ bring them together. "I am glad you care for me," he finally whispered, moving to shyly meet his husband's lips before pulling away. Emotion. This conversation had more emotion than he was really used to. "I'm glad you have decided to take such a step forward with me and accept the challenge that his relationship really is. It is...wonderful." He cleared his throat and took a slow bite of his dinner.

"Yeah, me too." Sherlock gave John a small smile. They didn't talk like this often and it was almost getting to be too much for him. It wasn't that he minded, he just still wasn't used to it he supposed. Would his husband be upset if he tried to change the subject? He decided to shovel some more food in his mouth, because he wasn't sure what to say next.

"Can we sleep on the pull-out bed tonight?" John finally broke the silence as he finished his wine. "It is small, that means we will have to snuggle," he said with a sheepish smile. Lately Sherlock had taken to snuggling against him but perhaps he could curl into his husband's side tonight, be close to him and sleep without nightmares. Right now the last thing he wanted to do was have sex with Sherlock. He wanted to be wrapped in his husband's arms and have a soft conversation with him. Nothing but little whispers and kisses and laughter.

"Yeah sure. That would be fine." Sherlock was finished eating, but at least he had managed to eat about half of it. He closed the box and finished off his wine. "Are you ready for bed then? I think I may have worn you out today, even if I did all the work in the alley." He smirked proudly at John, as he sank into the couch to get a little more comfortable.

John laughed and closed the carry-out box. He only had a few bites left and snuggling with his husband sounded far better than finishing his meal. "You were the one that grabbed my dick." He shifted on the couch and curled against Sherlock's side, resting his head on his husband's shoulder. "You never do that. I was shocked." He wasn't complaining, though. It had felt amazing. His eyes slipped closed and he smiled the best he could. "You tired?" He asked with a yawn.

"Have you so quickly forgotten the cargo hold of the plane? I damn near broke my knuckles against the metal wall jerking you off while I shagged you from behind." Sherlock shrugged with a smirk. "Not at the moment, but we can get the bed ready if you tired right now my dear doctor."

Right. John blushed at just the thought. "Yeah. Sorry about that." He looked up at Sherlock and yawned again. "I'm fine right here curled against you," he whispered as he placed a kiss against his husband's cheek. He shifted slightly and grabbed behind him, opening a text message on his mobile . "Er, Mycroft wants to speak with you." He handed his mobile over and opened a new message.

_Problem with Lestrade. Busy? –MH_

Sherlock was about to snuggle in closer to John when his husband handed him the mobile. His brows furrowed in thought and confusion. "Give me a moment." He stood up off the couch, calling Mycroft as he walked into the bedroom. "What kind of trouble?" He closed the lid on the toilet and sat down.

"We..." Mycroft paused for a long moment, taking a deep breath. "We had a domestic. But I may have hit him." Another pause and he rolled his eyes. God, he had no idea what to say. "I hit him and he is gone." A wail echoed through the background and he groaned. "Sherlock, he was the only one that could calm Amy down and I have run him off two months before our wedding."

"Here I thought I had dad's temper," Sherlock commented dryly. He sighed at himself. Making remarks like that wouldn't help. "How long ago did this happen? If it hasn't been that long maybe he just needs some space. What about Mummy or Mrs. Hudson to take care of little Sandi? Maybe Harry? Then you can go look for him." He wasn't entirely sure why his older brother had chosen him to help. There wasn't a lot he could so far away.

"Two hours," Mycroft mumbled. "And Harry is here. Not drunk, thankfully. I just...I don't know what to do and I know that you and John have rows all the time. How do you fix them?" He let his eyes slipped close, forcing himself to relax. Fine. Everything would be fine. "I didn't mean to call in the middle of your honeymoon. I just...didn't know who to call."

"You do realize that you called _me_ for relationship advice don't you?" Sherlock smirked even though Mycroft couldn't see it. "I guess it is different for everyone, I don't really know. Just find Lestrade and talk to him and most certainly apologize. Sometimes talking results in yelling and words that you don't mean to say. But no matter how bad it gets or how stubborn either of you are...one of you will realize how ridiculous the argument was to begin with and one of you will _fight_ for the relationship. If neither is willing to fight for it, then maybe you should rethink getting married. Mycroft, you let him go once. If you _really_ care, love him then fight for it. Don't just let him walk away again."

Mycroft smiled slightly and looked up as Harry entered the room with Amy in her arms. "And that is why I called you for relationship advice," he stated with a small laugh. "Because you have been through this and what you just said..that was good. I am going to go." The phone call ended and Mycroft headed out right away.

"Sherlock?" John stood slowly from the couch. He hoped everything was all right. His first thought was something was wrong with Amy and every horrid situation he could think of had jumped to his mind the moment his husband disappeared.

Sherlock smirked, rather pleased with himself at the moment. He stood up at the same moment John walked in. "Hey." He could see the worried look on his husband's face. "Everything is fine. Mycroft called for relationship advice, from me off all people. Guess I did okay though."

"You? For _relationship_ advice?" John smiled widely and embraced Sherlock, meeting his lips softly. "Mmmm, you are pretty good at this one," he stated with a smirk. "I am sure they will work it out. I'm looking forward to little Siger, to be honest. We'll probably get to babysit him sometimes, yeah?" He pushed Sherlock back against the wall with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "That is what I said, but I think what I said might have actually helped." He followed John's movements, until his back pressed against the wall. Would he even be able to do anything this time around? It had been a few hours, so maybe. He wrapped his arms around John, pressing their lips together for a slightly aggressive kiss.

John grinned into the kiss, opening his mouth and pressing eagerly into his husband. He knew why he couldn't stop touching his husband like this. After the honeymoon they would go back to a flat where they had an infant who would need their constant care. Shagging would happen probably only in their bed late at night when they returned. Right now he could take his husband in this bathroom if he could manage it.

Sherlock was still a bit sexually frustrated from before, so he continued his aggressive kiss. He pressed his lower torso into John's, bucking up into the other man roughly with a bit of an excited growl. If he couldn't get an erection this time, he might just scream in a ft of childish rage. "God I want to fuck you so bad." Not exactly romantic he figured, but if he didn't get shag his husband soon he just might snap from the anger of it all.

Oh _God_. John nearly shouted at Sherlock's words alone. The man never said that and hearing that made him thrust against his husband, pressing him roughly against the wall. "Fuck me," he begged breathlessly. "Oh God, please fuck me." When did they start talking like that? Sod it, he didn't care.

Much to his delight, Sherlock could feel himself getting hard. He wasn't sure if it was his sheer determination or because enough time had passed from the last shagging, either way it didn't matter. What did matter was he was getting an erection. He broke the kiss, panting for a moment. "I'm going to get lube, go get in the shower. Want to finish what we started." He untied his robe, letting it fall to the floor without a care. He almost tripped over his own feet as he rushed to the bedroom. He grabbed a random bottle of lubricant and made his way back to the bathroom.

John didn't need to be told twice. He yanked his pajama pants and boxers down, stumbling into the shower and turning the water on. "Fuck." He pulled his hand back with a hiss and adjusted the water the best he could before turning to grab his husband's wrist. "Please," he begged, pressing against Sherlock. He didn't have an erection but he didn't care. Sherlock did and, he couldn't explain it, but he wanted Sherlock inside of him. It didn't matter that he wasn't hard.

Sherlock smirked, pleased with John's eagerness. He was feeling pretty excited himself, as well as aggressive. He took a moment to adjust the shower head, so it was hitting the back wall. He then pressed John into it. "Turn around. Like the cargo hold. Think that will work best here." He wasn't sure how was able to maintain this level of calm, considering just how horny he really was right now. He opened the bottle of the lube and slicked down his cock, it smelled like blueberries.

"Right," John muttered, pressing his chest and stomach against the wall with a small gasp. It was hot and steamy. "Blueberries, really?" He glanced over his shoulder as he let his feet slide on the ground, spreading his legs as far as he could while keeping his balance. Still no erection. He closed his eyes for a moment. Sherlock. This was about _Sherlock_. His husband was all that mattered. "C'mon," he growled as he tensed his muscles against the spray of warm water.

Once Sherlock was prepped, he prepared John next by sliding in two fingers smeared with lubricant. "It wasn't like I looked when I grabbed," he muttered. He dropped the bottle on the floor, kicking it behind him so it wouldn't be in the way. He wrapped both arms around his husband, to help support them both. He leaned his head against the wall. Not the most comfortable thing to do, especially with his head all banged up but it would do for now. He entered John with a moan, starting a off with a fast pace but managing to make it steady.

"Ah!" John slammed his eyes shut and leaned back against his husband. Even without a hard on it felt amazing. Good God, this was amazing. "Geez, don't stop." He turned his head and opened his mouth, sucking at the side of his husband's jaw. Don't say _harder_. That could end badly. "Sherlock."

Hard thrusts in a slippery shower would not end well for either of them, so with self control Sherlock didn't know he had he had managed a fast pace but without doing it roughly. And Christ, it felt amazing. He tilted his head a bit so John could have more of his neck to suck on. The smell of the lubricant, mixed with the hot and steaming water made it seem like they were shagging in a blueberry muffin. It was strangely alluring to him. This so far was his favorite lube they had used.

"Yes," John mumbled against Sherlock's neck, biting down on the skin he could find. It took him a few moments to finally catch his breath, a moan escaping his mouth each time his husband thrust against him. The smell, though, was making him a bit sick to his stomach but he would manage for Sherlock. "L-Love you." He swallowed hard and pushed back roughly against his husband.

With excited as Sherlock was and having shagged only a few hours before, he didn't last long at all. He came with a moan, panting out a growl from the biting on his neck. "Sorry…couldn't last long." He turned his head to meet John's lips in a kiss. "Love you too." He slid out of his husband but stayed pressed against the other man.

John smiled and took a deep breath, slumping against the wall with a small giggle. "You smell like a massive blueberry," he said as he shifted slightly and winced. Well, at least Sherlock had enjoyed it. "We will have to do that again when I actually have an erection."

"Yeah, I know. For some reason I _really_ like. I am also hungry now too, so I might actually finish dinner." Sherlock smirked at his husband but it slowly turned into a frown. Oh. "John, I'm sorry. I didn't…I should have…" He trailed off, dropping his head bit. Christ, he was a selfish lover sometimes wasn't he? He had been so frustrated from last time and so excited this time, all he could think about was shagging his husband.

"Oh, Sherlock, calm down." John moved forward and gently met his husband's lips. "I wanted to do that for you. If I didn't want it to happen then I would have said no." He smiled softly and ran a hand down Sherlock's face, his thumb running across his cheekbone. "I love you. It is fine, I promise. Sometimes I just do things for you."

Sherlock nodded a bit John's word but it didn't do a lot to pacify him. He wasn't hungry anymore. He just wanted to go somewhere to sulk, instead he pressed against his husband for comfort and support. He rested his chin on John's head, arms still wrapped around his partner and he squeezed his husband slightly in a hug.

Well, that hadn't helped much. John placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's chest. "I wanted you to have something, Sherlock. I am fine. I would have said our safety word if I wanted you to stop. Promise." He ran his hand up and down his husband's back to soothe him the best he could. Had he ruined yet another day between them? That was the last thing he wanted.


	45. Chapter 45

"Okay." Sherlock closed his eyes from the soft kisses on his chest, they were comforting and soothing. He was certain he could fall asleep like this, even though he wasn't tired. And despite the fact he was standing up and had hot water spraying down on him. "This is nice. Liking this." He pulled John a little closer still.

"Good," John whispered with another kiss against Sherlock's heated skin. "That's the point," he added with a smug smile. It wasn't often he got to one-up his husband like that. It seemed like his words and actions were helping and he suddenly felt like a much better husband. "The goal of my entire life, really, is to make sure your life is nice and you are liking it." And it was true. He had made a vow. He couldn't back out from that sort of promise.

Sherlock smiled and lifted his head off his husband's and then leaned down, so he could kiss John on the lips. "I love you." He resumed the kiss, breathing through his nose. He didn't want to have to break it too soon. It was slow and easy, his tongue running along his husband's bottom lip lightly.

John wanted a bloody recording of Sherlock saying 'I love you' to listen to for the rest of his life. He moaned into the kiss, his hands curling so his fingernails could dig slightly into his husband's back. "Love you," he replied softly before sucking at Sherlock's tongue with a small, pleased hum. The man knew what he liked and it never failed to impress him when Sherlock took his breath away during a kiss.

The fingernails against his skin made Sherlock moan softly into the kiss. If he hadn't just shagged John, he was sure he would try to right now. He broke the kiss eventually, so he could breathe properly. Between two shaggings and feeling extremely relaxed, he was a little tired. "I think you wore me out today." He smirked down at his husband.

"Mmmm," John smiled a bit, pulling Sherlock closer. "Do you want to go set up the pull-out bed? I can get it all ready since I have worn you out so much." His chest puffed out with pride. Sherlock was tired and _he_ did that. It felt amazing to know that. "Then you can get your few hours of sleep and everything will be wonderful." He met his husband's lips for another slow kiss.

Sherlock smirked bigger. "I would rather stay in here and kiss you." He returned the kiss, turning them slightly so John's back would be against the wall. He pressed their bodies closer together with another moan. God, he was still turned on from their last shagging but there wasn't anything he could do about it right now. He wouldn't be able to until sometime tomorrow either.

Well, John couldn't argue with that. He gasped and looked up at Sherlock, flattening himself against the wall. "You are insatiable," he whispered with a smirk as he stood on his toes and took his husband's bottom lip between his teeth. "Probably going to get hard myself if you keep this up," he added with a mischievous grin. At this rate he was going to be tossing off on the pull-out bed while Sherlock was asleep.

"Well, you are just so _adorable_ , I can't help it." Sherlock continued the kiss, his tongue mving inside his partner's mouth eagerly now. He was determined to get John off before they went to bed for the night. He let a hand scratch down his husband's side slowly and then took hold of John's cock, hoping to help his husband's erection along.

John had a witty reply on the tip of his tongue but the words were caught in his throat the moment he felt Sherlock's hand on his penis. He moaned into his husband's mouth and let one hand lift up to rest at the center of Sherlock's chest. God, that felt wonderful. He pressed his hips forward slightly and pulled away from the kiss, looking between them proudly. Apparently all it took was Sherlock's hand for him to get an erection.

Sherlock smirked in satisfaction. Perfect. They still had the lubricant around here somewhere on the floor. "Would you mind if I used the lube for a blowjob?" He had been wanting to try it out for awhile now, and the for some reason the blueberry lubricant smelled really good to him. The thought made him squirm against his husband. "God, I love you." He moved in to kiss John once more, his hand gripping a little more firmly and stroking gently to help maintain the erection.

John nodded as he met Sherlock's lips, moaning as he bucked into Sherlock's hand. "Yeah. Fine. 'S fine," he stumbled over the words and pulled away from the kiss with a whimper. "Please. God, love you too." He didn't even know what he was saying anymore he just wanted _something_. "Lube. Good. Yeah, good."

Sherlock was practically giddy with anticipation. He fumbled around with the wet bottle before he was finally able to get a grip on it. He opened it, applying the lubricant in a few quick strokes on John's penis. He got down on his knees and began sucking on the cock with a moan. Christ, it tasted better than it smelled. He began bobbing, sucking loudly.

Jesus. John could _hear_ Sherlock giving him the blow job. He moaned and let his head fall back against the wall, his hand moving to tangle in his husband's hair. "Fuck, Sherlock." His hips moved forward slightly and he hissed. "Sorry. Sorry," he mumbled and tightened the fingers in Sherlock's hair. His partner was obviously eager and it was all because he tasted like a blueberry.

Sherlock growled excitedly from his hair being pulled. John's thrusts only encouraged him really, and he took as much of his husband's cock in as he could. He continued his loud sucking slurps, having to exhale from his nose because breathing through his mouth was next to impossible at the moment.

"Yes. God, fuck." John tried to keep his hips still, his eyes slammed shut as he tried to focus on not moving. But Sherlock's mouth was glorious and the sounds he was making were even better. "Sorry," he apologized in advance as his hips pressed forward.

"...sfine..." Sherlock managed to mumble around John's cock. He began bobbing as fast as he could now, swallowing down to the base with surprising minimal gagging. He was too busy enjoying the taste, still sucking loudly. He had never been so eager to give a blow job before.

That was too much. John tried to look down as he came but his head flew back instead. He moaned loudly, pulling at Sherlock's hair and leaned heavily against the wall, starting to slide down as his legs wobbled. "God. Oh God. That was." He finally slid to the floor, looking at Sherlock through half-open eyes. "So, you like blueberries?"

Sherlock swallowed with a bit of difficulty considering how much he was sucking and slurping but he managed. When John slid down, he leaned his head into his husband's chest breathing heavily. He could only nod slightly in response to John's question. He would have to try flavored lube during a blow job again.

John wrapped his arms around his husband and laughed slightly. "That wore you out more than me," he whispered as he placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple. "It was good. Really good," he said over the spray of the water. Because it was. His husband had been so excited about the taste of blueberries that he had practically tried to swallow his cock.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Worth it. Glad you liked it." Oh, they were still in the shower. He didn't feel like getting up though. He would much rather stay in the embrace of his husband. He lifted his head to kiss John on the lips lightly. "Think I am going to sleep good tonight." The smirk on his lips got bigger.

John laughed and returned the kiss without a second thought. "You and me both," he replied with a weak smile. Now that he thought about it, he was exhausted. Sleep sounded wonderful. "Want to sleep with you. Can I..." he paused and reached a leg up, turning the water off. "Can I snuggle against you tonight? I just feel like I am going to have a nightmare." He admitted.

"Of course." Sherlock kissed John on the lips one more time before standing up. He helped his husband up and then turned off the water. He shivered immediately without the cascading warm water washing over him. He got out of the shower, dried off and then wrapped the towel around him for some warmth.

John let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he had been holding. He stood slowly and grabbed a towel of his own, drying himself off and grabbing the clothes he had abandoned on the floor earlier. "Don't want to sound needy," he admitted softly, looking at his husband with a blush. "Last thing I want, really. But I am just...scared." He pulled his boxers on and then his pajama pants.

Sherlock dropped the towel and slipped into his robe. He turned to look at his husband with a soft smile. "John, it is fine. You don't sound needy." He grabbed his partner's wrist gently and led them out to the living room. He pushed the blankets and pillows out of the way with his foot before starting to take the cushions out of the couch and tossing them behind it.

Not needy. That was what husbands were for, right? John followed Sherlock and watched him before helping his husband pull the bed out. Small but probably more comfortable than the floor. He lifted the pillow and blankets on to the pull out bed with a smile at Sherlock. "Perfect," he whispered. "Just like you." He placed a soft kiss on to his husband's neck.

"Yeah, but I am perfect _and_ amazing, so I'm better than some pull out bed." Sherlock grinned at John. He crawled into bed, laying on his side so his husband could curl into him. The bed was more comfortable than he remembered. Maybe he had just hated sleeping on it as a child because he had been forced to sleep next to his older brother. He smirked up at John. "So, we probably shouldn't shag on this. Pretty sure it would break, even without us being rough. Unless, you want to buy a new couch too."

John laughed and crawled slowly on the bed, wincing as it creaked under his weight. "Shit, it might break with just us laying here," he muttered with a laugh. He moved and curled against Sherlock's chest, pressing his face into the warmth of his husband's robe. "Sometimes when you wake up and leave me in bed I cuddle with your pillow because you smell wonderful," he whispered as he blushed. After the amazing blow job he was apparently ready to tell Sherlock anything.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in a hug, his chin resting lightly on his husband's head. "I love you." Shit, he was more tired than he thought. It was easy to relax with John in his arms. He closed his eyes, as his breathing slowed down and sleep found him. He kept his embrace around his husband the entire time he slept.

Oh. Sherlock really was tired. John smiled and forced himself to relax. No nightmares. Calm. He let his eyes slip closed and finally fell asleep, his body relaxing heavily against his husband as soft snores pressed into Sherlock's robe.

Sherlock only slept for a few hours. When he woke up, John was still sleeping. His husband had been trying to make conversation and he had fallen asleep on his partner. He would have to find a way to make it up to his husband. He remained still, hoping John would be able to sleep longer and with any luck no nightmares.

The moment Sherlock's breathing pattern changed John shifted, taking a deep breath and groaning slightly. Oh. He had fallen asleep. He yawned into Sherlock's robe. God, his husband was warm. Why in the world was he awake? "You awake?" He asked softly, opening one eye and glancing up at Sherlock lazily.

Well, it seemed John had woken up anyway. "Yeah, but if you are still tired you can go back to sleep." Sherlock kissed the top of his husband's head. "Sorry I fell asleep on you last night like that. I didn't realize just how tired I was until I had laid down on the bed." He shifted slightly so he could look down at John.

"Mmmm," John smiled slightly, his features showing how tired he was. "'S fine. Wore you out." He grinned and licked his lips, stretching his body to quickly meet Sherlock's lips. "Like it when you sleep," he added with a small shiver. All he wanted to do was sleep more but Sherlock was awake. He yawned and slowly reached between them, his hand wrapping loosely around his husband's penis. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing. His eyes slipped closed, a small snore escaped his mouth, and his eyes opened back up.

Sherlock couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped his lips from John grabbing his cock. There was no way he would be able to get hard right now. He smirked slightly as he his husband fought to stay awake. "Sleep my dear doctor. I am right here. You are safe. No nightmares." He hugged John closer to him, hoping that it would help his husband slumber peacefully.

Sleep. John mumbled something before letting his eyes close for good. Christ, he was exhausted. After another two hours he slowly woke up, his eyes opening. The first thing he saw was Sherlock's face and he broke into a sloppy grin. "Sorry," he said with a weak laugh, pressing closer to his husband. "Didn't mean to fall back asleep," he added with a yawn. He felt like he could sleep for another day, at least.

Sherlock shrugged a bit and then kissed the top of John's head. "It is fine. I told you to sleep." He smiled down at his husband. "What do you want today my dear doctor?" He wasn't sure if John would be up to taking the yacht to the city. His husband still seemed to be tired. As long as it got done before they left, it didn't matter to him when they did it.

Sherlock wanted to do something today? Just the thought made John groan into his husband's chest. He wanted to lay here in Sherlock's arms for the day. "Don't care," he muttered as he pressed closer to the warmth of his partner's body. It felt wonderful to just be curled against Sherlock.

"I take it you don't want to do anything today then?" Sherlock smirked down at John. He reciprocated the snuggling, by trying to press as close to his husband as he could. He brought a hand up to run through his partner's hair lightly and shifted slightly so he could meet John's lips for a gentle kiss.

"Not right now," John said against his husband's lips as he returned the kiss, letting his tongue run slowly against Sherlock's bottom lip. Kissing. He could do that. He pulled away with a small smile, opening his eyes to look at Sherlock. "I love your eyes," he admitted softly.

Maybe this would turn out to be one of those days where they just laid in bed, tangled up in each other. Sherlock would be more than content with that."They are perfect, just like the rest of me." He smirked at his husband and then studied his partner for a moment as he tried to come up with something to say to that. Something was expected wasn't it? Except he usually failed at things like these.

John smiled a bit and rolled his eyes. "They are so expressive. When you look at me I feel like you can see right through me. It is terrifying and wonderful all at the same time." He lifted a hand and rested it gently on his husband's cheek. "And your eyes narrow when you're thinking and it's _adorable_."

Sherlock snorted. " _You_ are the adorable one, not me. I am just perfect and amazing. Oh and let's not forget that I'm also a Sex God." He smirked down at his husband, as he continued to try and think of something to tell John. Shit. He was absolutely terrible with these kinds of conversations. Would his husband get upset, or had they moved past that now?

Oh. That was how it was going to be? "I am _not_ adorable," John muttered with a smirk. "Your mouth," he whispered as he licked his lips, his thumb running across the crease of Sherlock's mouth softly. "It is so soft and kissable. Love having it on my cock," he added with a smooth chuckle. "It quirks to the side just a bit when you have solved something. It's wonderful."

Still nothing. There were a lot of things about John that Sherlock liked, loved even but articulating them proved to be difficult for him. This was odd since he had no problem at all saying what was on his mind most of the time. "Careful what you say, I might feel compelled to test what you say." He smirked down at his husband.

"Your hands..." John reached between them, lacing their fingers together. "You...have the longest fingers and your hands are always so graceful." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's knuckles. "And soft. You always know how to use them in _any_ situation. When you are at a crime scene I always watch your hands," he glanced up at Sherlock with a soft smile.

Now he was just feeling utterly inadequate. Sherlock had thought of something to say now but he hesitated to say it. He knew John would disagree and even possibly get upset about it. He slid down a bit so he could place soft kisses along the scar on his husband's right shoulder. "I know you don't like them, but I like your scars. They…define who you are, I think. Strong. Brave. A fighter."

Oh. John felt his breath catch and glanced down at Sherlock. A fighter. Brave. Strong. He wasn't any of those things but hearing it from Sherlock made him smile. What did he say to that? Sherlock's words had been more powerful than his own. They shook him to the core. "...Yeah?" He asked brokenly, his hand clutching at Sherlock's.

"Mmmhmm." Sherlock continued to kiss the scar, before moving onto another one. "Strong: Because you have grounded morals and you stick to them, no matter what anyone says or thinks. Brave: I have never seen you flinch away from a fight. You always stand up for what is right. A fighter: You have been away at war, fighting for others. Fighting for people you don't even know and never will. No matter how close you have gotten to death, you always fight to live." By the time he was done talking, he was kissing the third scar. He lifted his head to look up at John. "That is what they mean to me when I look at them." He gave his husband a small smile.

Everything that John had just told Sherlock was no longer good, no longer the best thing anybody could say to his husband. It felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs and all he could do was stare at his husband, eyes wide and mouth ajar, and try not to cry. He didn't normally cry but nobody had _ever_ described his body like that. The things he viewed as ugly, Sherlock described as beautiful, as _him._ "That is... good..." He forced the words from his throat, his voice catching. "That's..." He swallowed hard and blinked, taking a deep and calming breath. "Yeah."

Sherlock frowned slightly as he gauged John's reaction. Had he said something wrong? Too much? Not enough? Were those tears? Had he just made his husband cry? "Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought…I was trying to…" He trailed off, burying the top of his head in his husband's chest feeling rather defeated.

"No," John replied instantly, dipping a hand under Sherlock's chin and forcing him to look up. "No, it was...perfect. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me," he whispered, a watery smile on his lips. "It was...thank you," he whispered. What else did he say? The man had taken his biggest flaw and shown them how they were viewed by the one person who really mattered.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion. John was smiling and crying at the same time. He didn't understand what was going on. "It was okay then?" He felt like he was missing something, although he wasn't entirely sure what that was. He reached up a hand to wipe at his husband's eyes gently. "Why are you crying?"

Two emotions at once. Sherlock's brain must be going crazy, John determined with a smile at the feeling of his husband wiping away his tears. "Because I am happy," he replied with a shrug. "Sometimes people do that, Sherlock. Sometimes people cry when they are so stupidly happy that they don't know what else to do." He lifted his head slightly to kiss Sherlock's hand. "You just made me stupidly happy. Nobody has ever said something like that to me."

Crying…when happy? That made absolutely no sense to him at all. "Oh. Okay, I guess." Sherlock tried to wrap his brain around that one. Here he thought he had finally started to understand emotions, but now he realized just how wrong he was. "Well then, I am glad you are 'stupidly happy' then…I think…"

"Oi." John laughed and moved his arms to wrap Sherlock in a tight embrace. "It was...lovely. I wish I would have recorded it. I want to hear that all the time." He placed a kiss in Sherlock's hair. God, he wanted to let everybody know what his husband had said, shout to everybody about how amazing Sherlock was. "I tell you things I love about you all the time but nothing ever compares to that."

Sherlock shrugged slightly. "You were saying all these nice things to me and I didn't know what to say. That was all I could come up with. I was worried maybe I hadn't said enough, or maybe too much. I am glad you liked it though." He leaned up and kissed John on the lips, hugging his husband closer to him. He was feeling a little socially inept right now and the closeness with John made him feel a bit better.

"I like to think I have decent eyes," John replied with a small laugh. "My face is a bit dull but it gets the job done," he added as he licked his lips. He was just happy now, ready to let Sherlock cling to him and probably take a nap. Who knew emotions like that could be so taxing? He felt like he could sleep for a few more hours. "I love your personality and how much you love me," he whispered with a hand moving to run through his husband's hair.

"You do have nice eyes, they are very expressive. But you already told me that and I didn't want to say what you had already said…" Sherlock trailed off with a groan. He was never going to get the hang of this kind of thing was he? He buried his face into John's chest once more, pressing their bodies together as closely as he could. He maneuvered his legs to entangle completely with his husband's. Maybe he wasn't any good at all this emotional talk but damn it he knew how to snuggle.

Right. Snuggling. "It is okay to steal things I say," John whispered reassuringly. "Promise. You don't have to be completely original. Nobody really is." He let his eyes slip closed and started humming, his hand running lightly up and down his husband's back. At this rate they weren't getting out their makeshift bed for anything. This bed was good enough for just snuggling and he didn't really have any plans to shag soon. "You are good at snuggling," he said with a smile.

"Damn right I am!" Sherlock lifted his head to smirk smugly at John. "But I am better at shagging. Sex God and all." The smirk got even bigger. By no means was he ready for another shagging, especially not on a bed that wasn't really made for two grown men. He was rather content to just lay here with his husband. The only thing that would make this better was kissing. He leaned up and began a slow kiss with John.

"Mmmmm," John started to return the kiss, exhaling shakily against Sherlock's cheek. Jesus, his husband's kissing was amazing and when it was slow he couldn't help but move against him. He moaned slightly and his hand moved to rest on Sherlock's shoulder. After a moment he got an idea and suddenly the kiss was loud, each small 'pop' echoing through the tiny living room.

Sherlock hesitated slightly when John changed the kiss. He broke it after awhile, pressing their foreheads together. "I love you." He pulled his husband closer still, hugging his partner a little tighter. He could stay in bed with John like this all day and be perfectly happy with it. He closed his eyes in contentment.

"I love you, too," John whispered with a smile, studying Sherlock's face while he had his eyes closed. When his husband was relaxed like this he was so amazing, great to look at. "You are amazing," he whispered seriously. "And I know you are going to reply like you usually do but I mean it. You really are, more than you know."

Sherlock opened his eyes and smirked at John. "You are more amazing because you put up with my insufferable ego." He kissed his husband on the nose and the smirk returned. His eyes closed again, nestling his head against John's chest now. He wasn't tired but he was so relaxed curled against his husband like this. The honeymoon was perfect. He didn't want it to end.


	46. Chapter 46

"It is worth it," John replied with a soft chuckle. It always was. Hearing his husband say things like might get a bit old but he couldn't deny it was true. The man curled against him _was_ perfect. "You need a haircut," he whispered into Sherlock's head, smirking. "It is out of control up here. How do you live with it?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and rolled them up to look at the curly bangs. "I like it long. Admittedly I grew my hair originally just to piss the Old Man off but I ended up liking it that way." He brought a hand up to his head to feel the length and shrugged a bit. "I will get mine cut if you let yours grow out a bit more." He smirked up at John. Grant it, his husband's hair was already longer than usual, but it gave him some wiggle room when he wanted to play with it.

John smirked and watched Sherlock's hand. "My hair is getting long enough," he muttered with a bit of a frown. He hadn't got it cut since he had been back from Afghanistan. "I can keep it long for you," he said softly with a bit of a smile. It was something little he could do to make Sherlock happy. "At least you got a bit of tan."

Sherlock smiled, pleased. "Good." He moved his hand over to John's head, and began twirling the parts long enough around his finger. "Well, the honeymoon isn't over yet. I could get more of a tan, but I still think I look weird not pale..." He shrugged a bit and the snuggled back into his husband's chest.

"I think we should try shagging on this bed," John whispered with a smirk. Before they fell asleep Sherlock had said the bed couldn't stand it. It felt like a challenge because he knew he could go slow and now he wanted to try it. "Later, if course, but I do." He pressed his hips suggestively against Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up at John with a smirk. "Okay. Tonight then. Probably won't be able to do anything before then anyway." Even after what he just said he couldn't help the moan when he felt his husband press against him. He pressed back, and even squrimed a bit. Now he didn't want to wait but they would have to. He doubted either of them would be able to get an erection right now.

Good. John took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. It wouldn't do any good to get them all worked up. "I was scared when I proposed to you," he whispered against the top of his husband's head. "I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. I...was afraid you were going to say no."

Sherlock managed to calm and still himself after a few moments. He glanced back up at John. "If you hadn't, I would have. I had actually planned to after you got home from war but you beat me to it. So the answer was easy." He looked down at the ring that was between the dog tags. He preferred it on the chain, rather than his finger.

John placed his left hand on Sherlock's chest, studying his own ring. During their honeymoon he hadn't really thought about the fact that they were _married_. Seeing the rings, though. Seeing Sherlock wear his dog tags constantly...it made John realize what marriage was. "You have made me strong. Brave. A fighter. It is all for you," he whispered as his hand moved to curl around the ring and dog tags.

Sherlock dropped his hand from John's hair to the his husband's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He wanted to tell his husband that was true before they met, but he hesitated and ended up falling silent for a moment. He thought of a question instead. "Does it upset you that I wear the ring around my neck and not my finger?" John had never said it had, or even made any indication of it. He wasn't sure why he asked really. Curiosity he supposed.

John cracked his hand open slightly and shook his head the best he could. "No," he replied with a smile. "I am...honored that you wear it with my dog tags. You told me you didn't want to ruin it with an experiment, yeah? I respect your decision." He tugged at the tags and ring and let his smile grow. "Did you think it did?" He asked in return, his eyebrows brought together.

"Okay. Good." Sherlock smiled at John and then shook his head slowly. "No, not really." He shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure why I asked. Just curious, I guess." He resumed snuggling his head into his husband's chest, because it was comfortable. He never thought he would like being lazy and not doing a damn thing. It was actually a nice change of pace, considering he was usually running around doing _something_ because he got bored easily. Perhaps he wouldn't get bored anymore, not when he could be with John. That always made things better.

"You are beautiful," John whispered as his eyes slipped closed and his body started to relax. "And you are the most amazing person I have ever met." He pulled his husband closer. All he wanted to do was be close to Sherlock and talk to him in soft, hushed tones. It was something he had always wanted to do. Right now was perfect, wasn't it? "I like when you look at me when we make love," he said with a bit of a blush. "I like when you hold my gaze because it makes me feel...loved."

Sherlock thought about making his usual cocky comments but decided to keep them to himself this time around. It was becoming a bit trite, even to him. Besides, this appeared to be one of those romantic moments John seemed to like so much. He wasn't really sure what to say. So he curled further into his husband, rather enjoying their close proximity.

John didn't want to ruin the moment but he felt like he didn't have a choice because the sudden growl from his stomach was rather obvious. "I think I might be hungry," he muttered with a bit of a smile. "What about you? Would you want me to cook you anything? Perhaps some hot chocolate?"

Sherlock wasn't hungry, not after having eaten last night. "Maybe some tea. That would be nice." He didn't want to disentangle from John, but his husband was in need of food. He groaned as he straightened out on the bed, and stretched out his limbs. He sat up slowly, but didn't get up off the bed just yet.

The moment Sherlock moved John missed his warmth. He could do without food, right? If he was snuggling with Sherlock he could forget about it. "Sorry," he said with a bit of a smile, sitting up and looking around the living room. It was so different from 221B and didn't suit his husband at all. "I can make you tea," he said softly, his eyes locked on the blank television in front of the bed.

"Okay, well I will fold up the bed then and put the cushions back on the couch." Sherlock finally stood up. God, he really was domesticated now wasn't he? Not that it was really a bad thing he supposed. It was just…different. Something he was still getting used to. Once John got up as well, he made the bed before folding it back into place.

John watched his husband for a moment before moving into the kitchen and getting everything ready for tea. He put the kettle on the stove and grabbed himself a slice of bread, taking a bite and jumping up to sit on the counter. After another bite he glanced at Sherlock and grinned. "We are going to shag on that. Why did you put it back?"

Sherlock gave a slight shrug as he put the last cushion into place. "Figured it wouldn't be until tonight before sleeping. Pretty sure I won't be ready before then. Unless you think you will be? Then by all means, I will tear this thing apart all over again." He turned toward John and gave him a smirk.

John laughed and took another bite from his bread. "I wanted to jerk you off _while_ I fucked you. I've got to be patient," he muttered around his mouthful of food. He wanted his husband to writhe and beg for everything and be just as desperate as him. "You know what I was thinking about today?" Another bite of bread, his lips pulled in a simple smile. "The first time we shagged."

Sherlock smirked and walked over to John. First time they shagged. He actually had to take a few moments to remember it. The day he had come from the hospital, after almost dying from being poisoned. Probably would have seemed like a weird time for a first shagging but with everything that happened to them, it didn't seem that strange at all really. "I don't know if you realize this or not, but I was a little nervous the first time. I didn't know what to expect."

"I know," John said softly, finishing off his slice of bread and rubbing his hands across the thighs of his pajama pants. "I said I had to go get Vaseline and you asked why. I asked if you were ready and you looked so lost." He reached a hand out to grab Sherlock's, pulling his husband smoothly between his legs. "But you did wonderful," he whispered proudly. "You were...so wonderful."

Sherlock shrugged a little, not really sure why he felt shy all the sudden. Being shy wasn't something he felt often…or rather _ever_. He hadn't realized he had been so transparent the first time they had shagged and now he felt self conscious about it. "I was nervous in Scotland too, the first time I shagged you." He gave a small smile as he leaned his forehead against John's.

 _That_ surprised him. John tilted his head to press their noses together for a moment. "Really? You did fine," he whispered with a small laugh. "Wonderful, actually. You were...slow. It was good." He let his hands move to rest on Sherlock's hips as the kettle started to go off. It would wait. He liked the little conversations they had started to have. They made him smile. "The first time I touched your dick," he muttered with a laugh. "On the couch in the flat. Your brother in the living room. God, I thought you were going to choke on the air in your lungs."

"You were my first…well everything. I wasn't sure what to expect on any of the occasions. The first time I gave you a hand job, you had to help me…" Sherlock closed his eyes, the small smile still there. It was weird to think how tentative he had been about all things sexual at first because now he was, well if he was going to be honest with himself, a sex addict. There were so many amazing and fascinating things one could do to enhance the sexual experience and he wanted to try them all. Well, maybe not all of them. Some of the things he read about hadn't appealed to him at all.

In the hospital. John laughed at the thought. "And you analyzed everything, remember? I saw it in your face, practically heard you thinking." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. "First blow job?" Another bark of laughter as he lifted one leg and rested the heel of his foot on his husband's lower back. "You asked me if I had swallowed _that_." He finally let his eyes slip closed. That had seemed like so long ago. They'd had a child, he'd gone off to war...they had both nearly died.

"I wanted to make sure I got it right," Sherlock muttered with a slight pout of his lower lip. It twisted into a smirk though. "Well, I didn't know people actually did that." He had heard the tea go off earlier and he had ignored it, just like he was right now. That seemed to happen a lot but he didn't care. Spending time with John was far more important than drinking tea. He kissed his husband on the lips gently. "I love you."

After a long moment John returned the kiss. "I love you, too," he stated against Sherlock's lips. "Do you remember at Mum's house when you got to practically fucked my mouth?" He asked was he cracked an eye open. "I think that was the best blow job I have ever given. The look on your face was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Nobody else has complimented me like that after I let them fuck my mouth." He tightened his hands on his husband's hips.

Sherlock smirked again. "Yeah, but it couldn't have been that pleasant for you." Another gentle kiss. "Love you," he repeated. He wrapped his arms around John's waist in a hug and also to draw him closer to husband. He leaned into John as well, loving when their bodies were pressed together like that.

"I didn't mind. I knew what I was doing." John tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw. "Hollow out your cheeks, exhale with each thrust up." He grinned eagerly. "Want to do it to you again. It is probably one of my favorite things."

Sherlock tilted his head up so John had more to kiss. He scratched lightly at his husband's back, his other hand moving up to run through his partner's hair. "You just have a big mouth and can handle it." He dropped his head to grin at John and placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. He then began kissing down John's cheek, down to the neck where he began to nibble lightly.

"Oh, _I_ have the big mouth, do I?" John laughed softly and let his breath catch in his throat. "Can I do that tonight?" He asked softly as he lifted his other leg to wrap around Sherlock's hips, his hips pressing forward slightly. "Fuck you and then give you a wonderful blow job? Please?" God, he sounded desperate but he wanted to. A few years ago he never thought he would beg to have some bloke's penis in his mouth but now he couldn't wait.

"Well, I might have a bigger mouth than you do." Sherlock stopped his light kisses to smirk up at John. "Sure. I don't know if you like the flavored lubricant, but you might want to try it with that? I rather enjoyed it myself, but not sure if that would be your cup of tea." Tea. Right. The kettle was still whistling. Oh well. He was tangled up in his husband's arms and legs, it could wait a little while longer or even the rest of the day for all he cared.

"I, personally, think your cock tastes just fine," John muttered softly, reaching to his right to take the kettle off the stove. The lube might help the process a bit, though, considering what he wanted to do. At some point he was really going to have to thank Nancy because apparently Sherlock enjoyed blueberries. "Do you want me to try it?" He asked against his husband's temple. "I will if you want me to."

"John, you are the one giving the blow job. Short of putting hot tar on my dick, I probably wouldn't care _what_ you did to it before, during or after." The smirk returned and Sherlock gave a slight shrug. "It is entirely up to you my dear doctor." He gave John a quick kiss on the nose, his hand still running through his husband's hair, a finger curling the hairs around every now and then.

"Right. No hot tar. Note taken." John grinned and let out a soft chuckle. "Hot water, that is good? I can do that?" He tilted his head slightly, pressing back into Sherlock's hand before nipping at the pulse point in his husband's neck. "I was thinking I would have you sit down on the edge of the bed, me kneeling on the floor," he inhaled shakily. "You could hold onto my head," he added as his hips pressed forward slowly. He couldn't help himself.

Sherlock gave a slight snort but it turned into a whimper when John nipped at his neck. All this talk was making him anxious. He wanted it _now_ , but he wasn't getting hard despite how excited it was making him feel. "Yeah. That would be good. Very good." He squirmed into John with another whimper. Damn it. He hated having to wait. Patience was never something he was very good at.

"S-Sorry," John took a deep breath, slamming his eyes shut. They needed to wait. They had shagged non-stop and now it was catching up with them...again. He would have to live with waiting. "They have cherry lube," he admitted. "Hid it away so I might use it." Talking about things like lube was still a bit awkward for him and he blushed, burying his face into the side of his husband's neck. "Can't wait."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "I can't believe with all the different things we have done, you still get embarrassed about talking about sex. It just adds to how _adorable_ you are though." He smirked and kissed John's nose once more. God, he couldn't wait either and the thought alone made him squirm again. "So far I like the blueberry the best. The chocolate wasn't so bad, but we made one hell of a mess with. We should probably get new sheets, once we get around to actually getting the bed."

"'M not adorable," John muttered into Sherlock's neck with a bit of a smile. It _was_ embarrassing to talk about. Sex in general was a very secretive thing and even taking with Sherlock was awkward. God, he didn't know why. "I know blueberry was your favorite," he stated to pull himself from his thoughts. "You practically tried to swallow my dick."

Sherlock smirked. "You, my dear doctor, are the most adorable man I know." Maybe talking about sex wasn't weird to him because he was so open about everything else, why be worried about that? It hadn't really been taboo growing up, like it was in many homes for other children his age. "I think I might start buying the blueberry. John, I couldn't help it…it was amazing."

"If you are going to keep giving me blow jobs like that I have no problem with you buying blueberry lube," John said because, honestly, he _wasn't_ adorable. Far from it, in his opinion. " _Young Master Holmes_ , I want to be inside of you," he hissed as his hips pressed forward. Maybe he could distract Sherlock from constantly calling him adorable, even if it was going to just sexually frustrate them both.

Sherlock was about to say something snarky about being called 'Young Master Holmes' when John pressed into him. He moaned, dropping his head onto his husband's shoulder where he began to nibble, hoping to help relieve his frustrations. "Want you inside of me, please?" He whispered into John's skin, not caring how needy he sounded at the moment.

Oh God, Sherlock was begging. John tightened his legs around Sherlock's hips with a small gasp. Damn it, there was no way he could comply with what Sherlock was begging for. "Want to, so bad," he whispered, moving a hand to tug at Sherlock's hair. "Can't. Later. Oh, God, later."

"I know," Sherlock murmured while he continued to nip at John's shoulder. Later. Tonight damn it. It seemed so far away. They needed to do something to distract them. He lifted his head and met his husband's lips. While kissing John was most certainly distracting, it probably wasn't the distraction they needed right now.

John instantly returned the kiss, trying to keep it as slow and calm as possible. His tongue darted quickly into Sherlock's mouth before he pulled away, a bit of a smirk on his face and his eyes half open. "That isn't helping," he said softly as he ran a hand through his husband's hair. "You are an amazing kisser. Pretty sure you could get me off just by kissing me."

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Get you off by just kissing you, huh? I am going to have to test that theory sometime my dear doctor. Come on, before the tea gets any colder." He leaned up off of John, and took his husband's hand to tug his partner forward gently.

John slid from the counter with a smile, stepping forward and embrace Sherlock. "Wouldn't mind that tea," he muttered before pulling away from his husband and prepared their two cups. Tea between them had become a bit of a romantic staple, something he was thankful for. "Can I ask you a question?" He handed Sherlock's mug to him as he took a sip of his own tea.

Sherlock took his mug with questioning raised eyebrows but he nodded. "Sure, what is it?" While he waited for the question, he sipped on the tea. He leaned against the counter to get more comfortable. What did John want to ask? He wasn't sure what to expect, as there were myriad of possibilities.

"Did you always know you fancied blokes?" John asked softly, his voice a bit hesitant. It was a bit odd for him to think about, really. He had always liked girls, had habitually shagged girls in school and the occasional bloke while he was in the Army. But he never thought he would end up married to a man. Especially one like Sherlock Holmes.

Oh. Well, that wasn't the question he thought would be asked. Sherlock thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "No, but then I was never really interested in males or females. The only person I have ever 'fancied' as you put it, is _you_. Sexual orientation really has nothing to do with it I don't think." He shrugged slightly, before taking a thoughtful sip of his tea.

Right. John dropped his head and cleared his throat. Why did he feel so bad? Before Sherlock he had been intent on shagging anything he could and he had nearly been married. Sherlock hadn't had anything like that. He felt the need to apologize for some reason. "I am glad it was me," he said weakly, wincing at his choice of words.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John's reaction. He continued sipping his tea in thoughtful silence, eyebrows furrowed together once more. The frown deepened when he finally spoke. "Did my answer upset you?" He couldn't think of a reason why this would be true but his husband's body language was leaving him feeling a little confused.

"No. No, of course not." John swallowed a sip of tea too fast and grimaced when he felt it burn his throat. "I just...I feel horrible because I was your first...everything and I have never been able to say the same for you. It makes me feel inadequate." He lifted his gaze slowly from his tea. "I just feel bad, I guess. I feel like I can't do anything for you."

Sherlock scoffed and shook his head. "John, you have done _everything_ for me." He finished off his tea contemplatively. "More than I think you realize," he added softly. It was true. If it weren't for John, he probably would have ended up on a very destructive path. He put his empty cup in the sink, leaned up off the counter and walked over to his husband. He pressed their foreheads together. "I owe you everything," he whispered before giving John a gentle kiss on the lips.

Oh. Well, that was good to hear. John returned the kiss with a bit of shock, setting his mug on the counter behind him. "I am glad, then. It makes me happy," he whispered with a bit of a blush. He was glad that he had done so much for his husband. It didn't feel like he had. "Does it worry you ever? The fact that we have sex so much now? You went from nothing to everything in six months or so."

Sherlock pursed his lips in thought. "It was bit overwhelming I guess at first, with having so much to learn. Not now though. Why, is it...not normal? We talk. Been working on our communication. Are _you_ worried?" Sure they shagged a lot but he didn't feel like their relationship was based solely on sex. It held so much more meaning to him, but sometimes he just didn't know how to let John know.

"No, I am not worried about us at all." John laughed a bit. "It's just...you said one time that it worried you. You were afraid you were a sex addict. I know you were kidding." He shrugged and pressed the tips of their noses together. At least they were talking about it, this wasn't something they would have done earlier in their relationship. "I feel like I am pushing you a lot of the time because I think with my dick more than anything."

"Well, I guess I am…maybe…" Okay. _Now_ Sherlock was worried. They did shag a lot and God did he _enjoy_ it. Sex with John was better than any drug he had ever taken. Had he traded one addiction for another? He had just thought it was what normal couples did, not that he had anything to compare their relationship to. He managed to give his husband a small smile. "Believe me, you aren't pushing me into anything. Do you…" A pause of hesitation, "Do you think I am?"

The next question was expected and John flashed Sherlock a genuine smile. "No. I never think that. I am always excited to make love with you because it is amazing. You have never forced me into anything." He gave his husband a quick kiss. Talking. This felt so normal, even if the conversation was serious. He felt like they were talking about things they usually kept hidden. "And I think we have a pretty healthy sex life, to be honest. I don't think there's much wrong with it."

Sherlock smiled, wrapping his arms around John and kissing his husband on the lips gently. He kept their foreheads pressed together, certain no matter how many times or how long, he would never tire to the closeness they shared. "Okay, good. I thought so too, but I didn't have any data or experience to back it up. Although, per usual, I was right." He smirked at John, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Oi." John laughed and returned the kiss. "I mean it. We try new things and you are so attentive to what my body wants, even without me realizing it. It is wonderful." He turned his head, pressing his nose into Sherlock's neck and taking a deep breath. "Even your Mum thinks so. She told me." He laughed into his husband's neck.

"So many others to try too," Sherlock whispered into his John's ear, nibbling on the lobe gently as he pressed into his partner's hips. God, he still wanted his husband. He pulled away with a twisted smirk. "Really? Well, I am glad my mother approves of our sexual ambitions." The smirk got bigger and he gave his husband a quick kiss on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," John replied breathlessly, his hips pressing forward without his consent. If Sherlock didn't stop teasing him he was going to go mad. "Liked after the wedding when we shagged in the bed and you had your trousers on," he admitted ad he opened his mouth and sucked gentle to the right of Sherlock's Adam's apple.

Sherlock moaned and tilted his head so John could reach more of his neck. "Can't wait for tonight. For you to be inside of me. Want you so bad." He didn't care how desperate and needy he sounded right now. Christ, he was acting like they hadn't shagged the entire time on their honeymoon. He pressed into his husband once more, with a small moan.

If Sherlock didn't stop begging John was going to find a way to shag him. "Fuck," he gasped and bit down on his husband's neck. "Going to go slow and then suck you off." He curled a hand and dug his fingernails into Sherlock's side. This was getting him nowhere and all he could do was thrust forward like some desperate teenager. "Want you," he muttered.

Oh God. Biting. It was almost as glorious as having his hair pulled. Sherlock whimpered with desire. Shit. No matter how badly they both wanted to shag, nothing was happening. They should probably do something else so they wouldn't go mad from sexual frustration but he made no effort to stop it. He only encouraged it, by pressing back into John with the same earnest his husband was showing.

This was a horrible idea. They were in the kitchen, John was sitting on the counter and had Sherlock tugged between his legs. "This is the start to some trashy porno," he whispered against his husband's neck with a bit of a laugh. He didn't want it to stop, though. In Sherlock's mind, and even in a bit of his, this was a way of expressing how much love he possessed. The man didn't talk about it much. "Want me to bite you again?" He asked with a teasing smile, his tongue darting out to run across the pulse point of his husband's neck.

Porno? "I have never watched porn…is it any good?" Sherlock suddenly didn't care about the answer when he heard his husband's question. "Oh God yes. Please," he begged. This was getting them nowhere but he had absolutely no inclination to stop it and neither did John apparently. Hopefully once they were able to shag, they hadn't exhausted all of their energy on…this. Did this have a word? It was far beyond snogging.

John opened his mouth but stopped short, his breath passing against Sherlock's neck. "Wait, you have never watched porn?" He pulled his head back curiously. "Ever? Not even once?" It shouldn't have surprised him but it _did_. Then again, most of the porn he watched was trashy and...female. Did Sherlock know that? He blushed at the thought and averted his eyes to the floor. Shit.

Damn his curiosity for ruining this moment with John. Maybe it was for the best. Sherlock shook his head. "I was never interested in sex before, so there was no need to. I know that based off your Internet history you have, but I never investigated into it. Like I said, no interest. After we were together, there didn't seem to be any point either." He paused contemplatively for a moment. "Wouldn't it be like cheating, if I had?" He furrowed his brows in thought.

If John's stomach could drop out of his body he was fairly sure it would at this moment. Cheating? Shit, he had cheated _a lot_ if tossing off to porn counted. The entire month after their wedding...Afghanistan. "Uh...is it really cheating, you think?" He asked nervously, lifting his eyes. Not to mention none of the porn he had watched had men in it. At all. "I think we might need to talk about this."


	47. Chapter 47

Oh. "You have then?" Why was he upset? This was stupid. Sherlock frowned, pulling away from John. "Why would you…need to…" He was feeling…threatened? Inadequate? He knew he was being jealous but even he recognized this was ridiculous. He didn't want to fight again. "You know what, it is fine. I guess it just came as a surprise as all…" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to offer himself some kind of comfort.

"I... well..." John closed his legs, crossing his legs at his ankles, and glanced up at his husband nervously. "Yeah. I mean, in Afghanistan and the entire month after the wedding." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Haven't since we started the honeymoon," he added to try and fix the situation. They were already talking and he braced himself. "Sherlock, sometimes I do like to look at...women." Oh good Lord, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? He probably just ruined their entire marriage.

Why did he care? It shouldn't matter, should it? He didn't want it to, but Sherlock was feeling weak in the knees at the thought. He wasn't mad…he was hurt? Disappointed? He wasn't entirely sure he could pinpoint any one emotion right now. "It is fine," he repeated because he couldn't think of anything else to say. It was the only thing he could come up with that wasn't emotional and irrational. He wasn't sure how long he was going to hold onto the control he had right now. He wanted to yell, protest. Or run away from this conversation. Anything to relieve the tight feeling in his chest.

It was definitely _not_ fine. John let his head fall because one moment they had been close and about ready to shag and the next they were on the verge of a fight. A serious one, by the looks of it. "So-" Not sorry. That was generic and weak and...was he really sorry? He hadn't shagged anybody else in Afghanistan and Skyping only did so much for him. The entire month after the wedding he had been alone and, really, what other option did he have? "I wasn't going to do it anymore, really," he muttered weakly. "It was just...women," he muttered and slammed his eyes shut.

Sherlock glanced up to John. "No more then? Never again?" He asked, trying not to sound as hopeful he was feeling. He continued to fight for control. No point in getting mad at something that had already happened, something that was beyond his control. He took a deep breath, to help keep him calm. "Was it…because…I am…uh…not good enough?" He shifted on his feet nervously, the initial insecurity he was feeling coming back.

"What? No, Sherlock, no." John shook his head frantically. "You are good enough. You have always been good enough. In Afghanistan it was so I wouldn't sleep with anybody else and...you know, I am married to you but I do like women a bit still, okay? I love you and you are wonderful but..." He took a deep breath and managed a shaky smile. Everything would be fine. They were talking about it. "Women still interest me a bit so I...wanked to porn with women in it."

Sherlock tried to understand but apparently he was failing, because it seemed to him if he _was_ good enough women shouldn't interest him? "Never again?" He whispered it this time. Hurt. He was definitely hurt. No confusing it this time. The constriction in his chest was tightening and he couldn't breathe. It was all on in his head of course, but he still gasped for air. "Going outside," he mumbled as he stumbled for the front door. Christ, he was even shaky on his feet.

Right. Not fine. John tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and slid from the counter, moving to quickly wrap his arms around Sherlock and pull him forward. "Never again," he whispered, a hand moving to rest on his husband's cheek. "Never. I won't do it ever again, okay? You are good enough. Better than good, Sherlock. You're my husband, you're perfect." He let his eyes dart between Sherlock's, his gaze intense and open. His husband needed to know he was telling the truth. "It was always you. It _is_ only you."

Sherlock slumped into John. "Wh-why then?" He stumbled over his words as he continued to fight for breath. Did he really want to know? Would it be better or worse than all the things he was thinking already? He needed to know. To understand. Maybe by knowing, it would help him get over this. Was it normal to be bothered by something like this? Without anything to compare it to, he really just wasn't sure.

'Because I felt abandoned by you a month after our wedding' _probably_ wasn't the best response to that question. John took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Sherlock, I like you... _love_ you, all right? But I don't think I am completely gay. I have been with women my entire life and I fell in love with _you_. Your personality, your everything. But liking women isn't just some switch I can turn off. I'm just...I like to look sometimes," he whispered brokenly. This sounded horrible. "I mean, I guess you have a right to be upset...bothered...but I didn't mean to hurt you. I did it to relieve stress while I was in Afghanistan...and the month after our wedding I just-" Stop. Don't go there. "It isn't you, Sherlock. I love you, you are perfect. It is me. It's really, honestly me."

This...was a lot to handle, to process. Right. Great. Sherlock shrugged out of John's grasp. "I think...I just need some time alone right now..." Too much. Of all the fights they'd had, this one was leaving him feeling the worst and he wasn't entirely sure why. He made it out the front door and halfway down to the shoreline before he collapsed to his knees in the sand.

Damn it. John dropped his head the moment Sherlock left, his eyes slammed shut. Wasn't communication supposed to be good? Married couples weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other and he was trying to make sure everything was out in the open. Except he had ruined things. His husband was...lost, scared. He could see it in Sherlock's eyes. And he had done that. It was the worst feeling. "Sherlock..." He lifted his head and glanced out the window to study his husband's form.

What was he doing out here? Sherlock wasn't entirely sure he knew himself. Stupid communication. Stupid marriage. Stupid...stupid _everything_! He growled his frustration, picked up a handful of sand and chucked it at nothing. Of course the wind was blowing in his direction, so all that really happened was he got the sand in his mouth and eyes. It probably would have been comical if he wasn't feeling so stressed. He didn't watch porn and he never had, and even after being with his husband he had never even thought about it. He had John, why would he need to? Why did John need to? Maybe if the cheating with Sarah hadn't made him so insanely jealous and even a little insecure, then this wouldn't be a problem for him. But it _was_ a problem. Now, what was he going to do about it?

Did John go and apologize? Sherlock had said he needed time alone but the longer he sat here the worse the guilt got. So, no more porn. That wasn't a problem, really, considering how active his sex life had suddenly gotten. And he could stop looking at women, couldn't he? It was clear that it upset Sherlock. He needed to fix this. With a deep breath and all the confidence he could muster, John moved outside slowly. Talking. Fixing this. "Sherlock..." He moved and dropped to his knees in front of his husband. "I married you, didn't I? I picked you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." No touching. He would let his husband decide when that was okay.

Sherlock was so lost in thought that it took a moment for John's presence and words to register. When they did he blinked a few times, as his gaze finally came into focus. Maybe it was normal for a married man to look at porn? "Is it...do most men, or people for that matter, look at porn, when married? I guess I just don't understand. Should...we watch one, tonight? Together?" Maybe he would be able to understand then?

John finally managed to smile. Sherlock wanted to analyze a porno, wanted to see why he was so interested. "Sherlock, I don't know if married people watch it, really. I did it Afghanistan because I was alone..." He scooted forward in the sand and reached out, grabbing his husband's hand. "My laptop is in the bedroom in my bag. If you want to watch one tonight we can."

Sherlock looked down at their hands, his brows knitted together in confusion and his lower lip puckered out in a pout. "But we talked on the phone, Skyped, sent texts...why did you..." He shrugged, trailing off before any real question was formed. The month after their marriage he understood, accepted but he was struggling with John watching porn in Afghanistan.

"There were weeks at a time where we didn't, Sherlock," John explained softly. And it was true. On nights where he had injured soldiers to care for he had been too busy to call his husband. He had been stressed and upset. "Late nights caring for injured fighters I just..." He shrugged and moved a bit closer, their chests almost touching. "I tossed off to relieve some stress so I could focus. In situations like that, when I have adrenaline running through my body I can't help it."

The frown remained but Sherlock nodded. He was quiet a long while, his head coming to rest on John's as he continued to stare down at their hands. He finally lifted his gaze to meet his husband's. "Tonight...when we shag, will you make love to me?" He wasn't one to ask for anything and even when he begged and pleaded for John's dominance it was always already in the midst of sex. This was different and he almost looked away after such a ridiculous request but he forced himself to keep the eye contact.

At Sherlock's statement John felt his stomach drop but in the most delicious way possible. His husband had just asked for something so personal between them. "Yes." He smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Yes. Of course. Do you want to pick a different spot?" He turned his head slightly, pressing his nose against his husband's cheek. "Do you want to face me? Be on your stomach?"

"Want to be able to see," Sherlock almost whispered the words, his gaze finally dropping. Yes they had been talking and even shared a few intimate moments but he was feeling...wierd about asking...about any of it. But...he needed it and maybe for entirely selfish reasons. He needed to know, be reassured that John loved him. To _feel_ it. "Will you talk to me?" He lifted his eyes back to his husband's.

"I can talk to you." John lifted a hand to rest on Sherlock's cheek, smiling warmly. "I will keep eye contact with you the entire time, do whatever you want. I love you." He moved forward and gently met his husband's lips, exhaling softly against his mouth. "Where? I don't want to do this on the pull-out couch. Somewhere special."

If John hadn't asked, then Sherlock probably wouldn't have even thought about where. Now that he did though, something did come to mind and it made him feel even more foolish than he already did. "Out here. On a blanket, under the stars. We can have dinner and wine before?" He finally wrapped his arms around his husband, in a tight hug. "I love you." He rested his head against John's shoulder.

Under stars. John grinned and placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple. "I love you too." He let his eyes slip closed. "Dinner, wine and making love under the stars," he said softly against the side of his husband's head. "God, it will be wonderful. You are fantastic. I can't wait, going to be gentle and talk to you. My husband." He pulled Sherlock closer.

It did sound wonderful. "I am glad we came here. It hasn't all been perfect, never is with us." Sherlock gave a small smirk before continuing, "...but I think it has been good for us, yeah?" It seemed they were still figuring things out as they went but everything turned out all right in the end.

"Very good. Best honeymoon I have ever been on," John joked softly with a grin. Now all he could think about was dinner, making love in a blanket. God, he wanted it now. "What time do you want dinner? I was thinking now. I could start cooking. Anything you are in the mood for." He slowly met his husband's lips, letting his tongue move slowly across Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "Eager are we my dear doctor? It is only midday." He returned the kiss. If they wanted to make love under stars they would have to wait. He pulled away from John's lips reluctantly. "Come on. We should find something to do, before we decide to nix the whole plan and shag here and now." The smirk returned as he stood, a hand offering to help John up as well.

"We could go snog," John offered as he took Sherlock's hand and stood up. "Tonight...I want to make it feel, I dunno..." He moved closer to his husband and shrugged. "Unrushed? Like we didn't plan it. I just want it to _happen._ " He smiled and gave Sherlock another kiss. "Or I could go let you pick out your favorite lube."

" _Just_ snog, us?" The smirk returned to his face. "I think you have us mistaken for a different couple." Sherlock smirked bigger and shrugged. He really didn't have any other ideas. He was getting hot in his robe though. That ever present smirk returned once more, as he began taking off the only item clothing he was wearing. "We could skinny dip." He arched an eyebrow, the smirk still twisted in place.

John had opened his mouth to reply and then Sherlock took his robe off. "Oh," he muttered breathlessly. Skinny dipping. "Yeah, think you will be able to handle the water?" He smirked and yanked his pajama  bottoms and boxers down with a laugh. "Wouldn't want you to drown." He turned and ran across the sand, jumping in the air and belly flopping into the water. It was a bit show-offy but he didn't care. He resurfaced with a smile and spit water toward the shore.

What was it with John and jumping into the water? Sherlock shook his head with a slight grin on his face. "I think you like showing off more than I do." The water was cool but it felt nice on his overheated body. He eased himself in slowly, unsure how his husband could deal with the sudden change in temperature like that. He waded out to John. "So, maybe we could snog _and_ skinny dip." Without waiting for a reply, he began kissing his husband immediately afterward.

Both. Both was very good. John moaned softly into the kiss, moving underwater to wrap his legs around his husband's hips. "So good," he whispered with a grin, his eyes still closed as he moved to rest his arms around Sherlock's neck. One hand slid down slowly to wrap around his dog tags and Sherlock's wedding ring as he pressed his mouth rougher against his partner's.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in a hug and to also help his husband stay in place. He matched the pace set by his partner, moaning into the kiss. They were both so insatiable sometimes, well practically the entire time since the honeymoon. Not that he was complaining. Would they be able to stop before they went too far and ruined the planned night? Because he was pretty sure he would be able to get hard now. Just the thought made him buck into John, another moan escaping his lips. There was a part of him that wanted to say screw the plans and shag his husband here and now.

They could never stop themselves. John gasped against Sherlock's mouth, pressing his hips forward against his husband's stomach. "Plans," he murmured weakly as he took a deep breath. "Tonight." It was as serious and strong as he could manage. God, he wanted to shag now but he knew if he waited that it would be better. It was what Sherlock would want more.

Sherlock nodded slightly, John was right. Oh God. That was an erection and with how close their bodies were, it pressed into his husband's inner thigh even without him having to buck into the man wrapped around him. He whimpered at the contact, fingers digging into John's back slightly. The plans. Maybe they could have it both ways? "What if, I shag you now and then we still keep our plans for the beach. Because God John, I want you right now." He whispered into his husband's ear and then began nibbling on it lightly.

Well, Sherlock was certainly excited. John dropped a hand below the water and gave his husband's penis a small squeeze. "Think we will both be up to that?" He whispered. Right now he knew he would agree. He wanted to do anything he could to please Sherlock and show him that he was loved. "Yes. Please, do it," he finally muttered. Between his own erection trapped between their stomachs and his husband's mouth working magic on his ear he couldn't say no. "Lube?"

Fucking lubricant, it was all the way back in the beach house. Sherlock wanted John _now_. Here. In the water. Well, that had decided it then hadn't it? "Don't have anything…" He admitted into the ear he had been nibbling on. "Guess it just means we will have to wait for the plans anyway." He wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed by this. Because shit, he really wanted to shag his husband.

John took a deep breath and pulled his head back to look at his husband. "There is a condom in the pocket of my pajamas and it has lube. We could use that and spit if you are gentle." He looked at Sherlock for a long moment. This was all for him and John had been shagged before without lube. "Want to try that?" God, it was making him nervous and he was breathing hard but he forced himself to focus.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh a little. "You do know we are surrounded by water, right? I'm not sure how much good spit will do." He kissed John on the nose and then disentangled himself from his partner "Just wait, I will be right back." For some reason he was really intent on shagging his husband out here at sea. It was hard to run swiftly through water but when he got to the beach he picked up speed. He fumbled through the pockets in his excited haste, but eventually he found the condom. It would offer less friction at least and maybe the water would help keep things slick. He tore open the packet, and slid it on as he made his way back out to John.

"Already an expert at slipping a rubber on," John stated with a playful shake of his head. God, he was excited. "Just...be careful. Please." He took two steps forward and lifted himself to wrap his legs around Sherlock's hips. "And don't get a bunch of water up my arse," he added with a smirk as he gently met his husband's lips. "Prepare me like you mean it."

Shagging in the water, they were actually going to do it. That was another one to cross off the list. Well, there wasn't an official list but there were certainly things Sherlock had wanted to try while on their honeymoon and this had been one of the many. He met John's lips, a hand slipping under the water. He slid one finger in gently, hoping it would help ease his husband into it. After few gentle thrusts he entered a second finger. Eventually his hand dropped to his side, holding on to John's hips to help hold his husband in place. He entered slowly with a moan.

John relaxed as much as he could, letting out a soft shout and slamming his eyes shut as soon as he felt his husband enter him. Fuck, that was bit more than he expected. His hands clawed at his husband's back as he tried to breath. Few more. Just a few more thrusts and it would be fine. Better. He whimpered and shifted against Sherlock, pulling away from his lips to bite his shoulder.

Sherlock was about to ask if everything was okay, but when John bit into his shoulder he lost that train of the thought. He growled excitedly, turning his head so he could mark his husband's neck. He managed to have the control to keep the pace slow, he _had_ to. There wasn't any lubricant to make it easier on John. Right. Was his husband okay? He finally remembered to ask. "…'skay?" He mumbled in between nibbles.

Focus on Sherlock's mouth. John hummed against his husband's shoulder, letting his mouth open a bit so he wouldn't draw blood. At least Sherlock was going slow. He was thankful for that. If his husband kept marking his neck he would be fine. Not to mention, each movement forced Sherlock's stomach against his cock in a wonderful way.

Was no reply good or bad? John wasn't asking him to stop, so that was a good sign…right? Sherlock continued the same slow pace, but he began biting and sucking a little more aggressively against his husband's skin. He ended up having to switch to the other side of John's neck, just so he could continue marking the man wrapped around him. "Love you," he said between growling bites.

Now John's neck was going to look horrendous but at least he was going to not focus on how painful everything was. "Umph." He bit down against Sherlock's shoulder again and whimpered. Slow. At least it was slow. "'S okay," he muttered.

This wasn't working like Sherlock thought it would. He had been excited to shag in the open water but now it didn't seem worth it. He didn't want to make the mistake of continuing the shag if John didn't like it. Grant it, last time he had been insanely rough but half the excitement for him was knowing his husband was enjoying it too. He sighed, stopping his thrusts and pulling out. He leaned his head against John's shoulder. "Sorry."

John growled slightly and shook his head. "Back." He reached under the water and lowered himself back on to Sherlock's cock. God, it wasn't horrible. He was going to enjoy it, damn it. "Shag me," he said softly, pulling his head back to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock moaned from the touch and picked up the pace once more as he reentered John. Who was he to argue then? His husband still wanted this apparently, although his partner hadn't shown any real signs of interest during the shagging except for the biting of the shoulder. Just the thought of John's teeth in his skin made him whimper and he began to mark his husband's neck once more with a slight growl.

John managed to take a deep breath and forced a moan out of his chest. He _was_ enjoying it but he was in a bit of pain and didn't want Sherlock to know it. "Good, so good." He smiled and pressed his neck into his husband's mouth. "Neck is going to look nice," he said with another moan. "F-Fuck."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk and he lifted his head to whisper in John's ear. "Want everyone to know you are mine. So, when we go and buy a bed and tell them ours broke. They will know." He turned his head, so he could smirk at his husband before moving in to kiss his partner's lips. He was able to keep his current pace for a little while longer before he moaned as he came. It wouldn't do to go limp in water, so he forced himself to stay in standing position the best he could while he supported John.

John smiled into his husband's neck, his hand running up and down Sherlock's back. Good. That was good. "I love you," he whispered softly. "Yours. I am yours." He shifted against his husband and laughed. "I feel like you really like my neck. God, Sherlock." He nipped at his husband's neck. "Think you will still be good for tonight?"

"Oh yeah. I'm a Sex God, remember?" Sherlock closed his eyes, tilting his head for John. After a moment, he reopened them and looked at his husband. "What about you? Will you be okay for tonight? I didn't hurt you too much...I hope...?" He reached down and took the condom off, definitely not enjoying it still being on after getting off. He wasn't entirely sure he liked shagging with them on yet either, but he had worn it for John.

"I am still hard." John muttered as he watched Sherlock remove the condom curiously. "Going to wait it out. I should be set." He smiled warmly at his husband. He was in a bit of pain but he had expected it. The moment he told Sherlock about the condom he'd braced himself. Nothing that had happened was actually Sherlock's fault. "I am fine." He nodded and gently met his husband's lips.

"Sorry," Sherlock replied as he tied the condom like John had and then threw it up to the shoreline to dispose of later. He returned the kiss, enjoying it for awhile until he finally broke it to speak. "What do you want for dinner?" He wasn't really hungry but the plans tonight were his own making so he should probably eat something anyway.


	48. Chapter 48

Dinner? Oh, right. Dinner. Their plans for tonight. John shifted and tightened his legs around Sherlock's waist. "I don't know. Bread and cheese? If we are going to eat out here it shouldn't be complicated and it would go good with the wine," he whispered. "Besides, I know you are not hungry so if I make it more of a snack you might eat more."

Sherlock smiled, giving John a quick kiss on the nose. "I love you." He leaned forward so their foreheads would touch, resting for a bit in quiet contemplation. "Cheese, crackers and sausage maybe. I could make a fruit salad like the night when we got married. We could feed each other. That seemed to work out rather well last time."

Feeding food to each other would definitely turn John on. He smiled and laughed. "I want this to happen naturally," he said softly, his chest pressing against Sherlock's for a moment as he took a deep breath. "I don't want it to feel like the night is supposed to end with me making love to you, if that makes any sense at all." Which he hoped it did because it was honest, truthful. He didn't want it to feel like they _had_ to end their night like that. He wanted it to be perfect.

Oh right. Natural. The first time he intentionally attempted to be romantic and it blew up in his face. The food, stars, a slow shagging. He relented with a shrug, deciding he should just give up on that prospect ever happening. He was Sherlock Holmes after all, inept at all things social... _still_. "Sure, that would be good."

Oh. No. That was bad. "Sherlock, I still plan on making love to you. Talking to you...everything." He ran a hand across his husband's cheek. "I mean that I want it to feel like we hadn't actually planned it. Your idea is so romantic and perfect that just the thought makes me squirm in excitement." He pressed his hips forward into Sherlock's stomach, showing his husband his still very obvious interest. "I didn't mean to muck it up just now. Your plan is perfect _and_ wonderful, just like you."

Sherlock didn't have the heart to tell John it didn't matter anymore. That his husband had ruined it already for him. God, there was no way he could say that ever. "Whatever you want, is fine." He managed to give John a small, reassuring smile. Was he being selfish for having wanted just one time where he planned and asked? He supposed there was a reason he had never done it before. Probably because he had known this would happen. He felt like an idiot for thinking he could actually be romantic, no matter what his husband had said.

Damn it. John closed his eyes for a moment. "Ignore me. We are doing it your way, all right?" He made sure Sherlock was looking at him before he continued. "Dinner and _making love_ under the stars like you planned. And I will feed you and talk to you." There was no hint of argument in his voice, his face set in determination. "Tonight is all about you and your plans. I am not going to ruin it."

Either John was getting better at understanding him or Sherlock was losing his touch when it came to keeping his thoughts and feelings hidden. Probably a little bit of both. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that. He gave his husband a smile and then a quick peck on the lips. "I," another kiss, "love," a third one, "you." A final kiss, but he kept that one going and his tongue moved to enter John's mouth immediately.

So John had done something right. Enough so to merit an incredibly adorable display from his husband. He returned the kiss without a second thought, sucking at Sherlock's tongue with a soft and encouraging moan. "Going to go so slow tonight," he said as he pulled away slowly from the kiss. "Let you know how much I love you." He started another slow kiss, his tongue running across the top of Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock smiled behind the second kiss. That was all he had really wanted out of the whole thing. He knew John loved him but he just wanted a moment where he felt it…intensely. All because he was feeling insecure. "It isn't too much is it? I feel like, maybe I am being a little too selfish about this whole thing." God, now his husband was going to know how anxious he was still feeling, because he was pretty sure he sounded unconfident with that question. But he _was_. That was why he needed tonight. Some form of reassurance.

It was odd to hear Sherlock sound so vulnerable. "It isn't too much at all," John whispered with a reassuring smile. "Unless you want me to give you the moon after we are done then I don't see a problem." He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair. "You aren't being selfish at all." He placed a quick kiss on the tip of his husband's nose. Tonight was about so much more now. Showing Sherlock's how loved he was, that he had nothing to be insecure about.

Sherlock nodded, feeling relieved. He would have slumped into John, but he was holding his husband up still. He settled for putting his head against his partner's shoulder. He hated that he felt like this. It was stupid. So what if his husband looked at porn. John had married _him_. They should talk about this. He lifted his head, but was quiet for a thoughtful while. "When I asked you not to look at porn anymore, that w _as_ being selfish. John, when we get back home…I won't be this man I am on the honeymoon, not if I want to work effectively while on a case. So, I will probably be away for several days. You and little Sandi would be too much of distraction, and I mean that in the best way possible. But when I come after a case is solved, then I can be this maan. I just…I won't be able to all the time John. I won't be able to give you everything you need…" He trailed off because he felt like he was just rambling now. Hopefully his husband would understand and not get upset. God, would this start another fight and ruin tonight?

John listened to Sherlock, his eyes finally pulling away to look on the water. Right. In all honesty he had expected that. He always had. Sherlock outside of 221B was an entirely different man. Did that mean they wouldn't sleep in the same bed as much? They wouldn't shag or take showers together or just lay in bed? God, he didn't want that to happen. "I know," he muttered softly. "I only watched porn because...you were gone but I won't anymore. I can wait. Just...toss off or...not..." He let his eyes slip closed. This was not something he wanted to think about. "Wasn't I going to work with you?" He asked weakly.

That was pretty much the response Sherlock had expected. Except, John looked a little more defeated than he would have thought. Yeah he probably ruined their planned evening. "You are, we will be working together. I just thought that, at the end of the day you would want to go home and see your… _our_ daughter. If you want to stay late at the office with me, then that is fine. If you wanted to do that, then we could hire a nanny. I am sure my Mum could recommend one."

Slip up. _Your_. John's head whipped up so fast he felt dizzy. "Amy is _our_ daughter," he said feebly, his voice shaking. "And we can...I dunno, put a bed in my office or something. It isn't that difficult." His entire body was tense now because Sherlock was...well, _Sherlock_. He didn't want to think about cases and the danger of it all and of Sherlock leaving his side of the bed empty.

Apparently the fact that he corrected himself on his own didn't matter to John. "We can do that." He had thought his husband would want spend time with little Sandi not just him. It wasn't a complaint, just…surprise. Hopefully John wouldn't come to resent him for it later. "I will text Mycroft later, get everything set up. The bed, a nanny. I'm sorry. I assumed what you would want to do without discussing it with you first…" He wanted to fix this before things kept getting worse.

Why couldn't they stop fighting? John took a deep breath and let his head fall on to Sherlock's shoulder, his head turned so his face pressed into the side of his husband's neck. "Sorry. I just...I want us to be a perfect family. If you are at the office than I can be, too. So can Amy. It won't be a problem." He tightened his legs around his husband and sighed, forcing himself to relax. "I want Harry to be her nanny. Is that a problem?"

"John, there is no such thing as perfect families. I got the office, to keep work and life separate. She will stay at the flat, I'm sorry. I am not going to have her be around all those strangers and other possible dangers. Maybe, when she is older..." Harry? _Harry?_ Sherlock wasn't really comfortable with that idea but saying so would probably upset his husband. Was she even qualified? For God's sake not just anyone could do a job like that. Weren't there qualifications and training for things like that? Not to mention he wasn't sure if she would be able to stay sober the entire time. One time was all it would take for something to go wrong. One little moment for John's sister to fall off the wagon. "Uh, if she stays sober…" He ventured quietly.

That was it. John couldn't stay wrapped around his husband and fight with him at the same time. "Sod off, Sherlock." He pushed away from him and swam to the shore, moving toward the house clumsily in the sand. Harry had been sober and had done a wonderful job. And now he wouldn't even be able to work with Sherlock since they had Amy. Maybe he wasn't as cut out for this marriage thing as he thought. They seemed to be fighting more than he thought was normal. He had tried to fix the little problem that had presented itself but Sherlock had shut him down. The moment he got into the house he locked himself in the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as he could and stepping in.

That wasn't what Sherlock had wanted to happen. He watched John storm into the beach house. Fucking great. He sighed, apparently there was no compromising here. It was either his husband's way or nothing and now John was pissed off. The point of the office was to keep dangers and hazards away from little Sandi and so he could stay focused. And Harry…Christ, he didn't really know her but maybe he should trust his husband's judgement. He stayed out at sea, laying on his back and staring up at the sky. His eyes squinted against the sun, without sun screen he was definitely going to get a sun burn. That was least of his worries right now.

When it felt like his skin couldn't take the heat anymore John stumbled out of the shower, turning it off and sliding to the floor. He understood Sherlock not wanting Amy at the office. Fine. But insulting Harry. His hands clenched at the thought. His sister had sobered up for their daughter so she could be around Amy. He slammed his head back against the door with a shout. At this point he just wanted the honeymoon to be over with so they wouldn't be around each other all the time and maybe stop fighting so much.

Sherlock hadn't been paying attention where he was floating. How long had he been out here? He sat up, so he could tread water and realized that he floated so far out he couldn't find the shoreline anywhere. Great. Lost at sea. It was his own fault though; he should have been paying attention. John probably wouldn't even notice he was missing until later. Okay. Don't panic. He couldn't just pick a direction and start swimming, if he went the wrong way his body would eventually get tired and give out and he would drown. No buoys around either or ships. Fuck. Maybe just for once, he would get lucky. No, that was certainly thunder he heard. A storm was coming this way. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm as he went through different scenarios in his head and tried to pick one that would result with the lowest possibility of dying.

Right. Apparently Sherlock wasn't going to come back inside so John was going to have to suck it up and do it himself. Not a problem. He stood slowly and decided to not put clothes on, walking outside and...where was his husband? There weren't any footprints coming back toward the house aside from his own and he wasn't in the water. "Sherlock?" He moved closer to the shore and looked around. "Sherlock?" He repeated before he felt his stomach drop. Shit. This wasn't good at all. "Sherlock!" There wasn't any sort of reply. Okay. So he probably was out there somewhere with swimming skills akin to that of a young child. John didn't hesitate, hitting the water and starting to swim out, shouting his husband's name every time he could manage to get a breath.

Sherlock had decided his best bet was to float on his back and minimize the use of his body and to hope for the best. It was a frustratingly and maddeningly inactive plan but anything else would probably result in him drowning quicker. He sighed, he could already read the headlines. 'Consulting Detective: Dies At Sea On Honeymoon Due to Drowning' Would John even care? Mourn his death? His thoughts were interrupted when he was certain he heard his husband calling his name. He sat back up, to tread water again. That was John, but how had his partner found him? Hopefully his husband had been paying attention and knew how to get back to land. "John! I'm over here!"

Alive. That was shouting. John started to swim faster, reaching Sherlock and panting for breath. "Idiot," he muttered as a smile finally spread across his lips. "Scared me to death." But he wasn't at the sea floor, he was alive and...a bit sunburned. "No more fighting," he stated seriously, studying his husband. "We can't keep doing this. It always ends in something horrible and I don't want it anymore." He looked around as he tread water, slowly catching his breath. "You all right?"

Sherlock managed a faint smirk and managed to shrug with the water all around him. "It was my fault, I'm sorry." He was quiet for a bit after that and he shrugged again. "I am okay. Bit tired, probably dehydrated from being in the sun, and sunburned. Please tell me, you remember how to get back to shore." Hopefully it wasn't that far away, if it was he didn't know if he would have the stamina to make it all the way back. He kept that to himself, no need to worry John.

"Yeah, of course." John nodded slightly, looking up at the sun. "I'm a bit worried about you." He cleared his throat and smiled a bit. "We will talk back at the house. We have got about a mile swim ahead of us. Get on my back." He turned, looking at his husband over his shoulder with a soft smile. "I will take you back and we'll get you taken care of. I know there is some aloe lotion somewhere in the bathroom." Good. Fixed. Not too bad. He tried not to show how relieved he was.

"No need to worry, I am fine." Sherlock gave a slight smirk. A mile? "I can make it, no need to carry me." Except, he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to do it. He didn't want to be extra weight on John in case something horrific happened, like the oncoming storm. The waters would be getting rough soon. The sky was already starting to darken and it was still. They needed to get to shore as quickly as possible.

This was really no time to argue but John wasn't going to back down. Not now. Things were getting serious. "Sherlock, I have been trained for things like this. Please, get on my back. This is serious and if we don't start now we are going to get caught in this storm. No offense, but you'll slow me down more if you _aren't_ on my back." He reached out and grabbed his husband's hand, gently pulling him forward. "On my back."

Sherlock grumbled, not liking this but they didn't have time to be arguing. Sometimes John could be just as stubborn as he was. He got on his husband's back, wrapping his arms around his partner's mid section. He made sure not to hold too tight, John would need to be able to breathe properly. He blinked as he felt the first rain drop hit his face. Great.

Good. Listening. Two years ago Sherlock would have died in the sea before listening to anything John had to say. "Good. Hold on," he said as several more rain drops started to fall around them, getting bigger with each passing moment. He started to swim as fast as he could manage, the waves picking him up and ducking him under. He kept Sherlock above the growing waves the best he could, taking the brunt of it with gasping breaths and sputtering coughs. They would get caught in a storm.

Sherlock pressed one cheek into John's back, his eyes closing so the spray wouldn't be too bad. He hadn't been ready the first time his head submerged under the water after a particularly large wave and when he resurfaced he coughed on the water. Really, he should have expected it to happen especially with how rough it was getting now. John couldn't be fairing much better than he was, but the wind was howling now. He wasn't sure he would be heard even if he tried yelling.

One large wave knocked John under for a few seconds and he resurfaced with a gasp. Shit, he wasn't even sure they were going the right way now. A loud crack of thunder made him look up for a moment before he was knocked under the water again, kicking frantically to resurface. "Sherlock!" He turned in his husband's hand, holding on to him as tightly as he could. "Get higher on my back!" He shouted as loud as he could. "You can't keep going under the water like that!"

Sherlock lifted his head when he thought he heard John shouting. He squinted his eyes against the waves in an attempt to read his husband's lips because all he could hear right now was the crashing waves and the shrieking wind. He was able to get the basic jest of the message and he managed to clamber a little further up. Whew. That had been tiring. Good thing he hadn't tried swimming. He was more exhausted than he realized. He rested his head against John's neck, eyes closing. No. He needed to stay conscious, otherwise his grip might slip. He bit down on his lip hard, jolting him back to wakefulness from the pain.

John started swimming again, struggling a bit more than he had before hand. The waves would knock him back almost every time he tried to move forward, dragging him under the water. Jesus, this was rough. The storm probably took them in a completely different direction from the shore he had come from. He resurfaced with a gasp, coughing and reaching an arm behind him to secure Sherlock the best he could. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Even in Sherlock's worn state, he could tell that John was struggling. Maybe if he let go, then his husband might have chance to make it. There was no sense of both of them drowning. He was just a burden on John's back at this point. Hopefully his husband would understand. He let go and a wave washed over him violently. He kicked to resurface, when he felt his feet hit sea bottom. Instead of struggling against the water, he found footing and was able stand. Well, sort of. The vicious water was making it problematic. He reached around blindly, hoping he hadn't lost John. He came in contact with a limb, his fingers clamping down around it as tightly as he could and then began trudging forward the best he could, coughing as the torrent of rain and waves fell down around him.

No. _No_. John struggled against the waves, inhaling water with each breath and coughed, searching wildly for his husband. He couldn't lose Sherlock. Not now. Their last moments couldn't be a fight. God, where was...A hand. That was a hand around his wrist and he was being pulled forward. God, he was so tired and so filled with salt water. Each large wave pushed him under again until he felt sand at his back and finally passed out, his breathing shallow and body limp after the fight to swim back to shore.

It shouldn't take this long to get to shore, should it? Now Sherlock understood that saying 'when it rains it pours.' He staggered when he finally hit solid ground, knocking him to his knees. Somehow he had managed to hold onto John. He turned to see his husband unconscious. Of course. It was only natural, right? It was happening to them after all. He crawled over to John's limp body and with energy he didn't realize he had, he picked his husband up. He didn't know where they were. This wasn't _their_ beach, but there was a lighthouse. He forced himself all the way there. They needed to get out of this rain. The door was unlocked. That was a nice change of luck. It was old and no longer in use. Still better than being outside. He set John down gently, realizing now that he was shivering violent from being cold. He found a tattered blanket and draped it over them both as he curled in tightly to his husband in hopes of keeping them both warm before losing consciousness.


	49. Chapter 49

Cold. There was a warm body pressed against his side. John slowly opened his eyes and groaned, starting to cough almost right away. Right. They had gotten lost and now he was...somewhere and... "Sherlock!" He turned and looked at his husband, still coughing and quickly embracing him. He remembered Sherlock letting go, remembered being so scared that he had lost his husband in the storm. "Sh-Sherlock," his voice was weaker and, damn, he was exhausted. "Sherlock." He let his eyes slip closed and whimpered. At least they had a blanket because they were both naked and didn't have anything else to keep themselves warm. A quick glance around whatever building Sherlock had found revealed some old cooking supplies, a few fishing poles, and a dresser. With any luck there might be something in there to fit them.

Sherlock groaned, turning away from whoever was shouting his name. He shivered from the loss of contact and it forced him awake. He rolled over; his wits slow to recover until he saw his husband. It all came back to him then. He groaned again. "John," he sputtered out weakly. Shit. They were both in bad shape right now. He squirmed closer to his husband, burying his head into John's shoulder as he passed back out.

John's Army instincts kicked in almost right away. He slid away from his husband and stood, his legs weak beneath him as he forced himself over to the dresser. Nearly empty. A pair of ratty flannel pants and massive sweater. Sherlock needed this more than him. He moved back and put the clothes on his husband, laying next to him and wrapping the blanket back around them. What were they going to do now? No way to contact anybody and... Shit, they were screwed, weren't they? He looked up at his husband with a soft cough, rubbing his hands all over his husband's body in an attempt to warm him up.

Sherlock slept for several hours. He woke up groggily, despite the length of his slumber. His body was itchy. He muttered at the discomfort he was feeling when he finally realized he was wearing clothes now. When had that happened? He focused on his surrounding next, finding his husband in no time at all. "John?" He was feeling better than when he had stumbled in here during the storm but he wasn't sure how his husband was faring.

John had focused on _thinking_ he was warm and was slowly pulled out of this thoughts by the sound of his husband's voice. "Yeah?" His own voice was weak and scratchy from all of the water. Sherlock looked better. Red cheeks and he was warm. "You look better," he whispered as he curled his body together and pressed into his husband's side. God, he was warm. It felt wonderful. "Where are we?" He finally asked.

"Yeah, I am okay I think. Here…you need these more than I do now." Sherlock took the too big clothing off and placed them next to John. "Abandoned lighthouse. I think I know where we are, should be able to get us back to the beach house." His husband wasn't looking good. He needed to get John out of here. He slipped out from under the blanket. "Going to see if anything of use is upstairs." Probably not, but it couldn't hurt to look.

"No, you need them more." John tried to sit up but ended up falling back against the floor, gasping at the sensation. Without Sherlock he was suddenly much colder and struggling to keep his body under control. He was shivering violently. Fuck. He curled under the blanket, kicking the clothes to the side the best he could. "Y-You. C-Cl-Clothes." He looked up at his husband with determination. He _wasn't_ going to let anything happen to Sherlock, especially after almost losing him in the storm.

"Don't be stupid John, put the damn clothes on. I'm fine for now." Sherlock turned and started to go up the stairs. He paused to look back at his husband. "If you aren't in them by the time I get back, I'll dress you myself." He smirked and then disappeared to the room above. There wasn't a lot up there, mostly just the giant unlit light. He did find at least one thing of use. A gas lamp. It was half full with oil. Matches. Lighter. _Something_. He searched everywhere, and managed to find a book of matches with three left. Good. Better. He went back downstairs with the lamp and matches.

John shook his head when Sherlock went upstairs, pushing the clothes farther away with his feet. He had found them for Sherlock and, damn it, his husband was going to wear them. Right now he had the blanket and he was more worried about Sherlock. The man couldn't force the clothes on him. His gaze lifted and he studied the lamp, shivering and coughing again before letting his eyes close. "Put them back on," he muttered weakly. "Now."

"Fine. Neither one of us will wear them." Sherlock sat down next to John, and then took the glass covering off the lamp and set it aside. He turned the knob on the side to make the wick cloth longer, it would burn faster that way but it would give a bigger flame and provide more heat. Which was what John needed right now. He lit the match and set the wick aflame. He didn't bother putting the cover back on. As long as they were careful not to knock it over it should be all right.

"Fuck you," John replied as he pressed his forehead into Sherlock's thigh, his eyes slipping closed. There was some heat coming from the lamp but the sound of the wind outside made him shiver again. "Y-You need clothes," he whispered before coughing loudly to the point where he gagged, struggling to catch his breath. It was only fair since he had the blanket. Why was his husband so stubborn. "Put them on."

"No. I am not the one shivering and coughing." Sherlock stood up and began investigating the downstairs. He took out the rack in the oven, broke a stool and walked back over to the lamp with his arms full. He needed some rocks. That would mean going outside. It wasn't raining anymore but the wind was still whipping around out there. He would brave it, for John. "I will be right back. I need to go outside." Before his husband could argue he stepped outside, after fighting with the door against the wind. He shivered as soon as he stepped outside, there was a rocky cove nearby and with effort and frigid fingers he pried some loose. He had to make a few trips to and from the door since he couldn't carry them all. Once he had enough, he began transferring them inside. The hard work and exertion was tiring but it offered him a bit of warmth against the cold air.

It wasn't like John could stand up and chase after his husband but he shouted as much as he could. "Sherlock!" God his husband was thick. "The last thing we need is for you _and_ me to be sick," he whispered as he struggled to sit up, shoving the clothes forward. "I have got the blanket. Please." He met his husband's gaze seriously. "We both need to have something. I found these clothes for you. Please, put them on." He was practically begging now.

When the last rock was inside, Sherlock slumped against the door. He hadn't realized just how tired and unwell he really was until he had finally taken a moment not to move. "Just let me finish this…" He muttered as stood up straight. He found a weak spot in the floor boards and kicked at it until he broke through. He dropped to his hands and knees once he was through and began tearing at the wood. He ignored the splinters and blood that resulted. He pushed the debris into the hole he had made. Why had he made the hole so far from the rocks? It wasn't really that far but God, he was getting tired again. Maybe he should have gotten smaller rocks, except he needed the larger ones. He sighed at his useless thoughts, brows furrowing in concentration. He began moving rocks again and made a smaller circle within the hole, stacking the stones two high so they would surround the broken wood. He grabbed the broken stool parts and dropped them into make shift pit as well, except for one wooden leg. He picked up the shirt and since it was too big anyway, tearing off a piece at the end wouldn't really matter that much. He wrapped it around the stick and then lit it on fire from the lamp. It was better than wasting another match. He moved the flaming wood over to the pit and once the fire caught well enough to his liking, he put the rack from the stove over the hole. There. Done. Now he could rest. He crawled over to John, snuggling against his husband. "Should be fine, some of the windows are broken upstairs so the smoke should filter out that way. Stones around it will stop it from spreading…" He trailed off as sleep found him once more.

Good. Now Sherlock was asleep. John moved slowly, his body protesting to everything, and put the clothes back on his husband. They were close to the fire and he could already feel the warmth. "I love you," he whispered as he moved back next to his husband, shifting so Sherlock's head was on his shoulder. The blanket was wrapped around them both tightly. God, this would happen to them on their honeymoon. "Sherlock Holmes you are wonderful." He shivered against his husband and started to cough.

Sherlock didn't sleep as long as last time, only a couple of hours. Had John gotten any sleep since being here? His husband wouldn't get any better otherwise. He should be fine, as long as he didn't over exert himself today. Shit, how long had they been here? A day at the most, he figured. With the blanket, clothes and fire going he was getting a little warm and God damn these clothes were itchy as hell. "Taking off the shirt, too warm." He slid out from the blanket, tossing the shirt next to John. Maybe his husband would finally put it on, because he clearly needed it more than he did at this point. Water. If he could boil some and then filter it, it should be safe to drink. He found an iron cast pot, that would have to do. "I am going to get some water for us." He knelt down next to John, pressing their foreheads together.

John closed his eyes at their closeness, reaching a hand up to rest on the back of his husband's neck. "Be careful," he whispered with a bit of a smile. "'M going to be sick," he added after, pulling away from his husband and kicking the blanket away, turning as he started to vomit up the sea water he had inhaled the day before. It took a while for his stomach to empty and he kept coughing, whimpering as he pressed his forehead against the cold floor. God, he felt horrible. He was shivering but his skin was clammy and warm. "Go get water," he muttered as he wrapped his arms around his midsection.

Damn it. John was worse than he thought. Sherlock watched his husband with a worried frown. "Wear the shirt my dear doctor, please. At least keep the blanket around you, and maybe try to sleep." He didn't want to leave but water, once distilled properly, would do them both some good. He got up, walked outside and filled the pot with water. He lost himself in thought, as he walked back up to the lighthouse and inside. The walk to the beach house was about half a day, but if he carried John it would probably take almost a whole day. Tomorrow. When he was a little more rested. He couldn't keep abusing his body, because it wouldn't help either of them in the long run

John glanced at the shirt for a long moment before he slowly pulled it over his head, curling under the blanket but leaving a bit for Sherlock so he could stay warm once he was done. "I thought I lost you yesterday," he said through his shivering. "W-Why did you let go?" It had been bugging him while his husband had slept.

Sherlock was quiet for awhile, as he watched the water boil over the fire. "I…uh…" He cleared his throat. "I thought that if I let go, you would stand a better chance of getting to shore safely." He shrugged as he looked around for other useful items. He found a chipped bowl and a dish towel, that was surprisingly clean. They would have to do. He used the towel to help remove the pot off the wire rack, sliding it rather than picking it up and setting it on the floor gently. He draped the towel over the bowl. Now it was time to wait for the water to cool down.

"'S stupid," John muttered as he buried his pale face in the blanket, watching his husband curiously. "I was going to save you. I was doing just fine." He coughed and turned his head, spitting something up before groaning. Well, he _had_ been doing fine. Now he felt like death warmed over. Another violent shiver shot through his body and he slammed his eyes shut. It upset him that Sherlock had let go.

"Yes, I know it was stupid and you weren't doing fine. You were practically drowning with carrying me on your back. We both would have drowned, if I hadn't." Sherlock moved over to John, his brows crinkled in concern. His husband wasn't doing well at all. He curled next to his partner, wrapping his arms around John to hug him close. Maybe they should leave today after all. His husband would be a lot worse tomorrow probably.

Warmth. God, Sherlock was so warm. Goosebumps spread across John's body and he shivered against his husband. "Would have gone b-back for you," he whispered against Sherlock's skin. Why did he feel so horrible? The mix of the storm and swimming had exhausted him and he assumed the amount of salt water he inhaled probably hadn't been too healthy. "Are you all right?" He asked curiously, glancing up at his husband the best he could.

"I had to try to at least give you chance to be safe," Sherlock whispered against John's neck. He continued to hug his husband closer to him. "I am fine my dear doctor. It is you I am worried about right now. I think you may have gotten some sort of bacterial infection. Possibly by swallowing something along with the salt water."

"'M fine," John replied with a soft smile. "Promise. Just fine." He took a shaky intake of breath and started coughing right away to the point of gagging, his body tense as he tried to calm himself. "Wanted to keep you safe," he muttered and forced himself to relax and let his eyes slip closed. "You are safe," he added softly. "Did my job."

"Yes, I am fine and safe. You should try and sleep my dear doctor." Sherlock kissed the back of John's neck. The cough his husband had was worrisome. It only seemed to be getting worse too. "I will stay with you right here. I won't go anywhere, I promise." Maybe once John had rested for a bit, he would be able to carry his husband back to the beach house.

How could John sleep while he needed to make sure his husband was all right? He moaned slightly and let his breathing even out, slowly falling asleep. He slept for two hours before waking up with a cough and a shiver, pressing back against his husband as he tried to catch his breath. Shit, he couldn't breathe. Another cough and he gasped nervously.

Well, at least John had slept for a little while. The cough was bad. The water would be cool by now. Sherlock rolled over to the pot and bowl and then sat up. Using the towel as a filter, he poured the water into the bowl slowly. It took a while for the liquid to drip through, but eventually he got it about half full. He removed the towel before offering it to his husband. "Here. Drink some water, maybe that will help."

John took the water and studied it intently. Sherlock was a genius so the water was going to be fine. He took a small sip, swallowing it with a weak cough. "The weather sounds better," he commented softly as he shifted in the massive shirt. If he got to feeling better they could hopefully start heading back to the beach house. At this rate, though, John didn't know what was wrong with him. "Probably going to throw this back up," he commented with a bit of a smile.

The water had been boiled and sort of filtered, so it should be all right. Sherlock was doing the best he could with the limited supplies they had right now. "Do you think it would be safe for me to try and carry you back to the beach house?" Despite being a genius, there were some things out of his depth. Like medical experience. John was a doctor though, and hopefully his husband would make a physicians analysis and not an emotional one.

God, the beach house. Just the thought made John smile softly except he wasn't doing very good and Sherlock needed to rest some more. "Probably not," he replied with a resigned sigh. "I am heavier than you and you need the energy to get back to the beach house yourself." What he was about to suggest might upset Sherlock but it might be their only option. "You might be good enough tomorrow to make it back. You could go and call Mycroft, get a car back here to get me. I think that might be the only option we have."

"I can't just leave you John." Sherlock sighed. The longer they stayed, the worse his husband would get. "I could go today then. I am fine. It is only half a day away walking and even shorter if a car comes to get you. I can have a doctor there at the beach house waiting." There was enough water to last John, especially with how little his husband was drinking. Sherlock was a man of action, sitting and waiting for the next day didn't sit well with him.

Today? Sherlock couldn't leave today, he was still too weak. John sat up and shook his head. "Tomorrow. Sherlock, you have got to rest a bit more before you leave. You've got a pair of pants that barely fit you and I am giving you the shirt if you are going to leave," he stated without any room for argument. "I will be fine, yeah? I have been through worse." He coughed and winced because, _shit_ , that was blood against his palm. He closed his hand quickly so Sherlock wouldn't see. Best not worry his husband anymore. "Can you wait? I'm going to be fine, Sherlock."

Sherlock managed a slight smirk. "I will be fine without the shirt. I am leaving today. _You_ can't afford for me to wait. Just try to sleep while I am gone and someone will be here for you in no time." He stood up and moved for the door. They didn't have time to argue. "John, I love you." He then went out the door. He began walking along the sandy beach, that would eventually lead back to the house. When the beach house finally came in view, he began running even though he wasn't really in any shape to do so. He stumbled through the front door, panting. He didn't bother closing the door behind him and moved to the bedroom. He found his husband's mobile and with the little energy he had left sent a text to his brother before collapsing on the floor and passing out.

_Send a car to get John at the old abandoned lighthouse. Doctor needed. –SH_


	50. Chapter 50

Mycroft kept his eyes locked on Amy, smiling at her as she let out a loud squeal and smiled at him. His phone went off and he reached for it blindly, glancing at the text. Oh. Shit. He quickly dialed a number and made all of the necessary arrangements. "Mum! I think it might be high time to cancel the honeymoon. Something happened."

John had fallen asleep almost instantly, waking up to a loud noise and...voices. "Captain Watson?" He let his eyes open and was face to face with a young woman.

"Anthea?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Good, you are awake." She stood up and motioned for the doctor to pick him up. The car was rocking a bit too much and he wretched up the small amount of water he had managed to keep down. He vaguely remembered being moved into the house, and set up in a new bed. The doctor moved to pick up Sherlock, putting him on the other side. He had passed out on his way here.

"All right, Captain Watson." The doctor smiled a bit and looked at him. "You have been coughing up some blood so we have reason to believe you've got a bacterial infection." John smirked. Of course Sherlock was right. "And we are going to get you some medicine for it. Your husband is just exhausted so we are going to keep him on bed rest. He has a sunburn, but it doesn't seem to be that bad." And with that the doctor left, into the living room, and he overheard the man and Anthea talking.

"Sherlock?" John turned slightly, coughing some more and ignoring the blood as he rested his head on his husband's shoulder.

Despite the rest Sherlock had gotten, he had done three physically exhausting things while already in a weakened state. He groaned, John's voice barely registering. In his sleepy state he turned away from his husband with an incomprehensible mutter before drifting back into his much needed slumber.

The moment Sherlock turned away a coughing fit took over John's body, the doctor rushing in and forcing him to sit up. He groaned, taking gasping breaths each time he could manage before more blood started to stain his hands. He couldn't wake Sherlock up, his husband needed to sleep. His eyes moved desperately to the doctor who pulled him from the bed and forced him out of the bedroom and on to the pull-out bed on the couch. John whimpered and curled into the blankets he was offered, shivering despite the rising temperature of his body.

Anthea glanced at the doctor and moved into the bedroom, sitting beside the bed and studying Sherlock. At least the man was sleeping, he needed it.

Sherlock's peaceful slumber didn't last long because a nightmare shocked him into wakefulness. Perspiration covered his face as he jolted upright. John. Where was John? Where was he? The beach house. When had they gotten a new bed? What was going on? His vision finally focused on…Anthea? What the hell was she doing here? "John, tell me where he is _now_!" He growled out. The dream had obviously left him in a bad mood.

Anthea jumped, eyes wide as she studied Sherlock. "He is in the living room. He was coughing and wanted to make sure you kept sleeping," she stated calmly, glancing at the door. "He was coughing up blood and the doctor is trying to see what he can do about it." She stood up slowly and cleared her throat. "Something is wrong, all right? Mycroft is thinking about bringing you two back to London."

"No! Tell Mycroft he can go to hell." Sherlock stumbled out of the bed, and moved out to the living room. He needed to see John. Reassure himself that his husband was okay. Anthea had said blood was being coughed up. That wasn't good at all, but a doctor was here. Things would get better and they could continue their honeymoon. He walked over to the pull out bed, and crawled into to cuddle up against John.

John groaned slightly. The warmth from Sherlock's body was uncomfortable but he needed the comfort, needed to know Sherlock was there. The doctor crouched in front of John and took his temperature. Too high. "Sherlock." The man took a deep breath and glanced at John, who was flushed to the point that he looked like he had been out in the sun too long. "I need to get him into a cold bath. He is getting a bit too warm." He didn't make any motion to move John until Sherlock said something. "Can we move him?"

" _I_ will move him," Sherlock snapped at the doctor. He got back out of the bed and picked John up. It was a little difficult since he was still weak but he should be the one taking care of his husband right now. If he hadn't been an idiot and gotten lost at sea, none of this would have happened. This was his responsibility. He stumbled over to the bathroom. "The Jacuzzi can double as a tub, just make sure the heat and juts are off."

The doctor followed after Sherlock as John groaned, pressing his face into his husband's bare skin. After he was set down he coughed again, letting out a small shout as the doctor turned on the cold water. "Ice," he muttered as he left for a few moments, returning and dumping two large cups of ice into the tub. John scrambled to get away from it the best he could, panting as his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Sherlo'," John looked up at his husband desperately, trying to get out of the frigid water.

"Ssshhh. Doctor's orders. You will be fine John." Sherlock sat down on the edge of the over sized tub. He reached over and began to run his hand through his husband's hair soothingly. "They are trying to break your fever." He leaned down and began placing small kisses along John's shoulder. "Do you want me to get in with you?" Probably not a good idea, since his temperature was normal but he wanted to comfort his husband as much as he could.

John groaned and let his head fall back, pressing up into Sherlock's hand. Calm? Fine? He was shivering still and cold and they wanted him to sit here in the ice water? Bloody ridiculous. The cold water made his breaths come in short spurts, his chest and stomach muscles contracted as he continued to shake. "N-No, 's fine," he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was subject Sherlock to this torture.

It couldn't be a pleasant feeling that John was experiencing. Sherlock continued to place gentle kisses on his husband's neck, while his hand continued its soothing strokes through the hair. He thought about what Anthea said. Should they cut their honeymoon short? Would John want to? Later. They could talk about it another time. Right now his husband just needed to concentrate on getting better.

After ten minutes the doctor pulled the plug and let the water drain. John had the decency to curl into himself and hide his body the best he could. God, it was freezing. He coughed several times and groaned. All he wanted to do was sleep and stop shivering and coughing. Not too much to ask, really. Whatever he got certainly hadn't agree with him in the slightest. He coughed again and pulled away from Sherlock, spitting up some stomach acid as he leaned forward. He gagged several times, spitting out whatever came into his mouth.

The doctor moved forward slightly. "When he is done we can move him back to the bed."

Sherlock waited for John's coughing fit to end before he picked his husband back up. He took John over to the new bed, vaguely wondering what had happened to the one they had broken. He set John down gently and then curled in next to his husband, pulling the covers over them both. They should both be resting, but how was he supposed to sleep when John was so sick? He would sleep later he told himself.

Warm. The blankets and Sherlock were warm and John managed a soft smile as he forced his body to go limp. If he didn't rest there was no way he was going to get better. "G-Going to shag you sometime," he whispered brokenly, small tremors forcing his body to press again his husband's wildly. "Slow. O-On a blanket." His eyes closed slowly and his breathing finally evened out as soft snores pushed past his lips.

"We might have broken the fever but I am worried about his coughing," the doctor said softly, looking at Sherlock with a worried expression.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk into John's skin, hugging his husband closer to him. He turned slightly so he could look at the doctor but still stay close to John. "Can't you give him anything? An antibiotic maybe? Cough syrup? _Something?_ " There had to be something the doctor could do, wasn't there? That was the physician's job after all…

"We have given him an antibiotic," the man explained softly. "This is a combination of exhausted, inhaling too much salt water, and something that must have been in the water he swallowed." John shifted on the bed with a small mumble, the doctor studying him for a moment. "The problem with the coughing is that there is blood. It could be because his throat is a bit raw but I am worried something might be in his lungs, which is why he is coughing. Nothing is going to fix that."

"What about taking him to a hospital? You could get a chest X-ray there, couldn't you? If the cough is so worrisome, why are we still here? He should be in a medical facility getting treatment." Sherlock was becoming agitated with this doctor. Didn't this man know anything? Mycroft would end up sending someone incompetent.

"Your brother informed me you both hated hospitals," the doctor replied calmly, keeping his eyes trained on Sherlock. "At some point we will just hope he coughs it up, which is exactly what would be happening at a hospital. With the fever we just have to hope for the best, pray we broke it" He moved to sit in a chair across the room.

John shifted and coughed, mumbling something in his sleep before falling limp again.

Sherlock grumbled darkly and turned back into John, pressing tightly against his husband. "You will be fine my dear doctor. No worries. Rest easy." His arms were wrapped around John, and his head pressed into his husband's upper back. Hopefully this way they could both relax. Despite his restlessness, he ended up falling asleep.

John slept for an hour and a half before his eyes cracked open. He wasn't shivering which was good, right? Did they break his fever? God, they better have. He refused to take another cold bath like that. He felt Sherlock behind him, breathing evenly so obviously asleep. And he hadn't coughed yet so he wasn't going to complain too much. He hardly moved, taking a deep breath but trying to keep himself as relaxed as possible so Sherlock would continue to sleep. A sudden scratch in his throat made him cough and, _damn it_ , that wasn't supposed to happen.

Sherlock groaned as he slowly woke up. John was awake and in a coughing fit. Damn it. How could he have fallen asleep like that? He hadn't meant to, but apparently his body had needed it. He was feeling rather helpless at the moment because really, what could he do? _Nothing_. There was nothing he could do for John except offer words of encouragement and snuggling.

It took several rough coughs before John's body relaxed against the mattress and back against Sherlock. He remembered being this sick once when he was a teenager and he had constantly just begged his Mum to shoot him, take him out back like some horse. Maybe he could convince Sherlock because, shit, he didn't want to stay like this. "Can you just kill me now?" He begged softly with a groan.

Even though John was kidding, Sherlock grimaced at the question. God, he hoped his husband was joking at least. He curled into his partner as much as he could. "You will be fine, you hear me?" John had to be okay. He wouldn't be able to live with himself otherwise. He needed to think about something else. "When you get better, we are going to shag under the stars. Don't think because you get sick means you get to wiggle out of it." He smirked faintly against his husband's neck and then began kissing it gently. "I love you."

John laughed softly, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the feeling of the kisses from his husband. "I love you, too," he said softly. "And I am sorry we fought. So sorry. I don't want that to be my last thought about our relationship," he admitted with a small cough. Think about something positive. Shagging under the stars. "At this rate it will be you shagging me, might cough up blood all over you...not very romantic." He smiled the best he could. "I never want to fight with you again."

Yes. Good keep John distracted. "The fight was my fault, I shouldn't have been so…insensitive. Harry can be little Sandi, _our_ daughter's, nanny. And we can work late at the office together. Whatever you want to do." Sherlock continued the soft kisses. No fighting again sounded like a brilliant idea to him. He hated it when they did. They were both juts so damn stubborn and strong willed. And he had a temper and was a stupid child. God, why did John put up with him?

"My fault, too," John murmured with a soft sigh of content. "Should have listened to your side but I was just too determined to get my way." He hiccuped and laughed slightly at the sound. Damn, he sounded horrible and he was starting to shiver again. "We should get another kid," he muttered in the haze of his fever, his words starting to slur together. "One that is yours. H-Have Irene help." He giggled at the thought.

Another kid? One was more than enough for Sherlock. He had a cat and a daughter, that was more than enough for him. He didn't say anything. No more fighting. Their disagreements had a tendency of spiraling out of control. Like yesterday. He just continued his gentle kisses, wrapping John in a tighter hug for some comfort.

John laughed again and yawned, pulling the blanket over their heads and grinned when he heard Anthea sigh from across the room. "Shag me," he said with a flushed grin, pressing his hips back against Sherlock. It was clear that the fever was starting to get to him, change his judgment. "Please. Want you," he mumbled, his words slurring together.

Sherlock frowned a bit at John's request. His husband wanted to shag, _now_? He wasn't in the mood. Fuck, was the fever not gone? He reached a hand up and pressed it against John's head. Yeah. They hadn't broken it after all. "John, maybe later okay. But right now, you are going to have to take another ice bath I think. I am sorry." He called for the doctor to get a professional opinion.

No. John tried to push the doctor away with a small whine. There was no way he was going to take another ice bath. The doctor started it up, dumping some more ice into it this time. "Sherlock, no," John begged to his husband. "J-Just shag me, yeah? 'S better." He looked up at the doctor and pressed back into Sherlock nervously, the heat radiating off of his body despite the fact that he was shivering.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered into John's neck before picking up his husband and walked him back to the bathroom and set him down into the icy water. "This will help you get better and then we can shag anywhere you want, however you want." He was doing his best to try and calm John down. "Everything will work out fine, you will see." He reached up a hand to run through his husband's hair lightly.

The moment John's skin touched the frigid water he screamed, clutching at Sherlock desperately. He was _shivering_ , damn it. He didn't need to be in freezing water. It felt like he couldn't move and his chest struggled to take normal breaths. Everything was short and tight and his eyes were wide as he studied his husband. This was horrid and he couldn't take much more but the doctor was timing everything and he had no idea how much time he had left "'S cold," he said through chattering teeth as he tugged his legs up to his chest and curled into himself tightly.

"I know." Sherlock leaned down to kiss John on the head. "Just awhile longer, okay? And then we will go back to the bed and snuggle. I can tell you another story if you want or you can sleep." He didn't know what else to say to keep his husband distracted, so he leaned back down and gave John another kiss. He kept telling his husband everything was going to be okay, but he really didn't know. It was something he needed to believe though.

The doctor nodded and moved to pull the drain but John didn't move. He sat back against the tub, eyes locked forward as he continued to shiver. The flush was gone from his face and he glanced at Sherlock blankly. "Bed?" He asked softly, still not moving. He was exhausted and all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe when he woke up everything would better, everything would be fixed. "Please, 'm cold. Bed." He let his legs stretch out and stood slowly, swaying before he walked to the bed and collapsed on it.

"John!" But his husband had already stumbled to the bed before Sherlock could stop him. He had planned on carrying John but that wasn't needed now he supposed. He sighed quietly, shifting his husband so he could pull covers over them and they could snuggle together. Seeing John like this was horrible. Almost as bad as when they had been kidnapped. The memory sent a chill down his spine and he forced it away. He pressed against his husband tightly, hopefully providing comfort for them both.

John took a deep breath the moment he felt Sherlock, his body slowly relaxing. "Sorry. Just wanted the blankets," he muttered with another small shiver. He hadn't even thought about waiting for his husband to carry him. "When I give you your blow job," he said weakly, "You are going to love it."

Sherlock smiled softly at John. "It is fine my dear doctor." He snuggled in closer to his husband and began the soft kisses again. He smirked against John's neck. "I am sure it will be the most wonderful blow job ever." He resisted the urge to not nibble on his husband's ear. He didn't want to encourage John, at least not right now.

John exhaled shakily and pressed back into the warmth of Sherlock's body. He felt a bit better after that ice bath but he would never admit that. It had been horrid and he was never going to do it again. "Yeah. Bes' one ever," he muttered as he finally fell asleep.

Anthea moved toward the bed, looking at Sherlock with a bit of a smile as she held her mobile out. "It is your brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but took the phone anyway. What could Mycroft possibly want? To tell him what to do? Demand they come home? Just 'checking up?' He sighed and turned a bit so he wouldn't be talking right in John's ear. "What do you want?" He probably shouldn't sound so irritated but this whole situation had made him rather grumpy.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Mycroft finally spoke. "How is John?" He asked calmly, a small squeal echoing in the background followed by a short, high-pitched laugh. "Greg," the laughing moved away and the room was silent again. "What happened?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and to his surprise, he told Mycroft everything. The fight, getting lost, John finding him, the storm, finding the light house, the fire pit, how he came to text his brother, what the doctor had said, the ice baths, even that John thought they should have another child that included having Irene as the mother. He told it with uncanny total recall, with a slight skewed perspective on it all. Mainly that this had all been his fault. "He should have just let me drown out there...and he would have been fine..." He mumbled the last part and then fell silent.

Oh. Well, Sherlock didn't spare any details. "This _is_ John we're talking about, Sherlock. He wasn't going to let you drown," Mycroft said softly, and it was clear there was a smile on his face. "I am not forcing you to do anything, Sherlock, but there are two plane tickets waiting for you at the end of next week. It is a few days early, I am aware, but after everything has happened it is the least I can do." He paused as soon as he heard John coughing in the background. "Do you want to take them?"

Sherlock nodded, even though his older brother couldn't see it. "We will see how John is doing then and I'll talk to him about it. Nothing definitive yet." A pause, "And Mycroft...thanks..." He fell quiet for moment, pensive. "Do you think it would be a good idea to have Harry as a Nanny? What about Irene being a surrogate mother? God, I don't think we are ready to try and take care of another child." He had all these doubts and worries gnawing at him and he wasn't sure if he should talk to his husband about them for fear of starting another fight.

Irene? Harry? Mycroft glanced around the room for a moment and cleared his throat. "Harry would make a good Nanny, Sherlock. She has been sober for almost six months now, the longest amount of time since she started drinking." He paused. The next question was a bit harder to tackle. "Do you both really want another child? By the time you get back Amy will only be about four months old. Did John suggest it? Was this before or after the ice baths? Hell, would Irene even want to get pregnant? She would probably demand that you actually shag her," he added as an afterthought.

"The mention of Irene being a surrogate was when he was feverish, so I am not really sure how serious he was about it. I know I'm _not_ ready for it." Sherlock sighed, in frustration. Change the topic. "I take it things are well between you and Lestrade then?" He had heard his older brother dismiss the Detective Inspector at the beginning of the conversation.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, quite," Mycroft answered quickly. This wasn't about his relationship with Greg, this was about Sherlock and John...and apparently Irene. "Just fine. Still getting married," he muttered. There was a long pause before he spoke again and he made sure to pick his words carefully. "How do you and John do it? Gregory and I haven't been through half of what you two have. I have never saved his life, he has never saved mine, and I just...how, Sherlock?"

Ah. Trouble in paradise still then. Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know, we just do. We work really hard at it. Just talk about whatever needs talked about. And yeah, there will probably be fight…several even. And you will tell each other no more fighting ever again, but it happens anyway. Sometimes communication just breaks down and a fight breaks out. Eventually you will come to an understanding, at least hopefully. With any luck, you won't have a fight about the same thing more than once. Because that's how you learn. Also, make up sex. That always helps." He couldn't help but smirk.

"And you say you don't understand relationships," Mycroft muttered with an obvious smile. "I have got to go, Sherlock. Amy is fussy and refusing to go down for her nap. You have John's mobile so text me if you plan on taking those tickets." He ended the call.

"Want make-up sex," John said weakly, clearly still half-asleep. "Can we have make-up sex?" He yawned and pressed back against his husband with a small cough, deep from his chest and echoing through the room for a moment. "Sex," he repeated, his voice lower this time before he went limp again and his breathing evened out.

Sherlock placed the mobile on the night stand, figuring Anthea would get it whenever. He rolled back into John with a smirk at his husband's words. Even though his partner was asleep he whispered into John's ear, "Later my Love." He had never called his husband that before and a small smile touched his lips. He nuzzled his nose into John's neck, eyes closing as sleep found him once more.


	51. Chapter 51

John slept for several hours and when he woke up he felt a bit better. It was clear his fever had broken and he had managed to wake up without coughing. The doctor smiled at him and gave him a pill that he swallowed eagerly. Perhaps by tomorrow he would be almost rid of whatever he'd gotten. He could feel Sherlock sleeping behind him and smiled, taking a deep and shaky breath. It took a few moments for him to go through his hazy memories before he blushed. God, he had asked Sherlock to shag him...multiple times and suggest Irene be a surrogate mother for a second child that he really didn't want. He should stop getting sick.

Sherlock slept much longer than he intended to. His body had been exhausted and he had finally relaxed enough to stay in his slumber for several more hours, even after John had woke up. He had practically slept the rest of the day away. He stirred, stretching out his long limbs before curling back against his husband.

Sherlock was awake and wonderfully warm. "I am glad I saved you," John whispered with a small cough. Not too bad, less from the chest. "But I don't think I'm quite ready for a second child. Especially from Irene." He grinned slightly and laughed. God, he had been horrid with a fever, hadn't he? "I wouldn't mind shagging you when I am better, though. Feverish me has that part down."

Oh thank God. Sherlock rolled so he could straddle John. Not because he wanted to shag just yet, but so he could look down at his husband. He pressed their foreheads together; he liked doing that of late. "Feeling better then Love?" He had decided he liked this new term of endearment he had tried out before falling asleep. He gave John a quick kiss on the nose.

_Love_? John crinkled his nose slightly but grinned. That sounded...nice. Especially from Sherlock. "Yeah," he whispered softly, lifting a hand to rest on Sherlock's cheek. "A lot better." He turned his head to cough slightly. No blood. "I don't think I am going to go swimming for a while, though. Unless I have to rescue you. That part was worth it." He lifted his head and turned it slightly, quickly meeting his husband's lips.

"We don't have to go swimming the rest of the time we are here, if you don't want. Will you still want to stay the whole time? If not Mycroft can get us tickets to leave at the end of next week." Sherlock didn't want to leave early but if it was what John wanted then he would go without argument. His husband being happy was all that mattered to him.

"We are staying," John stated with a small laugh. "Why leave? That is ridiculous. We're staying," he repeated with a sure nod. They couldn't leave. He still had to make love to Sherlock under the stars and some stupid little illness wasn't going to stop him. He met his husband's gaze and held it calmly. "I am sorry about earlier."

Good. They were staying. This was very pleasing to Sherlock indeed. He smiled down at his husband happily upon hearing the decision. "Me too. Harry is a wonderful choice John. I should have been more supportive of you and had more faith in your sister. I'm sorry." He leaned down and gently met his husband's lips for a slow kiss.

John returned the kiss before pulling away to correct his husband, a small blush on his face. "I meant...when I had the fever. You know, during the baths and...and the, um, Stuff. The talking." He nodded hesitantly, licking his lips and looking up at Sherlock nervously. "I mean, I'm sorry about the fighting and if you really want to find a Nanny then we can but Harry...she is sober and wants to be part of Amy's life, so," he cut himself off and laughed, ending it with a few weak coughs. "And thank you for staying with me."

Oh. Well now he kind of felt like an idiot. "It is fine my dear doctor. Everything is okay now. Of course I would stay with you. I am your husband. By your side was exactly where I was supposed to be. 'In sickness and health' remember?" Sherlock gave John another smile. "I love you." He leaned down and kissed his husband again.

Another kiss. John returned it slowly and pulled away to breath, grinning up at his husband. "I love you, too," he whispered tiredly. God, just that had exhausted him but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. "I need to find a pet name for you," he whispered. "It seems you have found a second one for me and I have yet to settle on one. You are too amazing, I guess."

"Sorry," Sherlock murmured and he rolled off of John, but curled back into his husband. "I don't need a pet name…although I prefer the phrase term of endearment myself." He smirked a bit. "I am amazing _and_ perfect," he corrected with a bigger smirk. "Are you up for eating my Love?" Yes, he did quite enjoy using this new term. He snuggled into John, letting out a content sigh.

John missed the feeling of Sherlock above him instantly but let his husband settle in beside him. "I am going to find you one," he whispered with a grin but it vanished the moment he thought about food. Oh, God. He didn't want to be sick again. "No, that is fine. Tea, maybe? Just some tea. That would be nice," he muttered weakly. Maybe he wasn't as well as he thought. "I don't ever want to eat again," he said childishly.

Sherlock kissed John on the cheek. "Tea it is my dear doctor." He gave his husband another quick kiss before getting out of bed. Oh for God's sake, he was still wearing those ridiculously large and dirty pants from the lighthouse. He took them off, not really caring who was in the room and searched around for his robe until he remembered it was still on the beach. Probably still wet from the downpour. He sighed and settled for wearing a pair of his husband's boxers.

John watched him with a grin, watching as the boxers slid low on Sherlock's hips. "Mmm, that's a good look for you," he muttered with a laugh, meeting Sherlock's gaze. "I wish to make a demand that you wear those around the rest of the day." He stretched lazily in the bed, freezing for a moment and slowly sitting up. "The...when did we get a new bed?" He looked up at his husband with wide eyes.

"First time wearing boxers, honestly. Kind of comfortable. Demand met and accepted." Sherlock smirked at John before giving his husband a slight shrug. "I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. I woke up in it. Mycroft probably had Anthea get it, if I had to guess. We will have to give it a test run once you are well enough." The smirk returned before he disappeared from the bedroom and into the kitchen. It didn't take long to make the tea. He prepared two cups and walked back to the bedroom with a tray.

John had curled deeper into the new blankets, inspecting the bed from his small cocoon before his eyes settled on Sherlock. "Warm," he mumbled from under the blanket. Getting the tea would mean leaving his roll of blankets and he wasn't really keen to do that. "Like this new bed," he muttered before taking a deep breath and letting his head disappear under the blankets. "Can we drink tea under the blanket? Like a fort?" He asked softly.

"A fort?" Sherlock echoed, confusion clearly etched in his voice. He frowned a bit as he tried to understand. Was he missing some kind of cultural reference here or something? He sat down on the bed, setting the tray on the night stand. "If you are careful, I guess it would be okay. We can destroy the bed after you are feeling better."

John poked his head out from under the blanket and glared playfully at his husband. "You know, a _fort_? Of course you don't." He giggled and reached out for his mug, sitting up a bit to take a sip. "You take blankets and boxes and chairs and make a fort. I did it all the time when I was a kid and then got beat up by Harry when I wouldn't let her in." He grinned and took another sip of tea. It had been, what, two day since they had shagged last? "We could go slow," he muttered softly. "I could lay on my stomach, we could do it like that." He offered with a bit of a blush.

Oh. "I never did that growing up," Sherlock admitted quietly. Sometimes he felt like he had missed out a lot on being a kid. It wasn't anything he had really thought about, except on the occasions he would talk to John about them. "If you aren't well enough to eat yet, then you probably aren't well enough to shag either. You need to get better John." They had shagged when near death, so why was now different? He frowned at his thoughts.

Right. Get better. John frowned slightly. "I should be fine but all right." He took another sip of his tea and twisted to set the mug down on the table on his side of the bed. "Not going to push you." He smiled, it was warm and genuine and, really, he couldn't be mad at his husband for wanting to take care of him. "Is everything all right?" He finally asked, reaching over to take his husband's hand. "I'm just asking because...I don't know, all those times in the hospital were never a problem and we have both been worse and shagged."

Maybe he was just finally growing up. Sherlock gave a slight shrug. "I guess…" He trailed off as he tried to think of the right words. "Shagging you is great but we are husbands now…shouldn't we be more…I don't know…" He shrugged again, as words failed him. It didn't happen often. He finally picked up his cup of tea and took a slow sip.

Being husbands changed their shagging habits? John watched Sherlock curiously and shook his head. "I don't know either," he said softly. It wasn't angry or upset, merely curious. He really had no idea what Sherlock was thinking and he wanted to know. It wouldn't do any good for his husband to keep his thoughts inside. "Tell me," he whispered reassuringly.

Sherlock remained quiet, as he continued to sip his tea thoughtfully. "Shouldn't we…take care of each other first?" He set down his cup and turned to look at John, his eyebrows raised questioningly. He really didn't know. He probably sounded like an idiot. Sometimes he felt like he didn't know anything about relationships at all.

"Yeah, probably." John grinned and nodded. "Just a bit. I know you are exhausted. I am a bit tired myself and still sick." He moved and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. "I am proud of you, Sherlock. You're...you are the best husband anybody could ask for." The amount of growth he had seen in Sherlock just after the wedding made his chest swell with pride. He flopped back on to the mattress. "I love you."

Oh. Well then. He had done well, it appeared. Sherlock gave John a proud grin. "I love you too." He laid back down, snuggling into his husband. His head rested against John's shoulder, an arm draping over his husband's stomach. The other hand reached up to run through his partner's hair lightly.

At this point John decided that he didn't know what he would do without Sherlock in his life. The man had stayed by his side while he was horribly sick. He had acted like...like his husband. "I am glad I married you," he whispered as a hand moved to rub at his husband's back.

Sherlock smiled. "Me too. I wasn't sure if I would be any good at the married life, or that it would suit me. But…I think I'm doing okay at it. Better than I thought I would, anyway." He turned his head, giving John's chest a small kiss. He didn't always feel this confident about his ability to be in a relationship but lately things seemed to be coming together for him.

John turned his head to study Sherlock. "You thought it wasn't going to suit you?" He asked softly before placing a kiss on his husband's forehead. "You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for, Sherlock. I understand that once we are back home and cases start up that you'll be a little different but..." He paused and pulled his husband closer with a grin. "You deserve all of this."

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Not really and two years ago it wouldn't have. I guess I have changed since then." Another shrug and then he nuzzled deeper into John's chest in seek of comfort. He hated that felt insecure like this at times, considering how confident and cocky he was about damn near everything else.

"You changing isn't horrible," John said softly as his arm tightened around Sherlock. He turned his head away to cough a few times before speaking again. "You have become a good man, Sherlock." And it was true. He _cared_ without realizing it and was even helping raise a child. "And if we don't stop talking like this I am going to be amazingly turned on about how lucky I am to have you."

"I know." Sherlock figured that he just felt like he was losing a part of himself somewhere along the way. "Do you think…I am still _me_?" Had he compromised too much? He didn't really mind, he supposed. He had changed because he wanted to not because he felt like he had to. He was just thinking about this too much, wasn't he?

Oh. That was what Sherlock was worried about. John looked down at his husband for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah except, you know, you can't base it off of who you are right now. You said you were going to go back to normal at 221B so...yeah, you are still you." He smiled warmly at his husband. "You're still you," he repeated proudly. "Just a bit more wonderful."

"Yeah, guess so." Sherlock decided to let it go because it was just a waste a time of thinking about it. It would just make him upset and frustrated. "I love you." He snuggled deeper into John still, needing the comfort that only his husband could provide. Just think about something else. Like when they were going to shag under the stars. Yes. That was going to be amazing. He couldn't wait.

John frowned right away and shifted, rolling to straddle his husband slowly. "You are, Sherlock. You are still so much you," he whispered before he started kissing his husband's chest and running a trail down to his stomach. "You are still a consulting detective and you are still a genius." He started the trail back up, a soft smile on his lips. "You're just married and you're in love. There is nothing wrong with that."

God. John straddling him shouldn't be such a turn on but it was. Of course his husband kissing him like that only made Sherlock think about wanting the man above him even more. No. John needed to recover. Tomorrow maybe. He took a calming breath. His husband was just trying to console him not shag him, he reminded himself. He smiled up at John, arms wrapping around his husband in a hug. "I love you." He didn't care he had just said a few moments ago. His husband was amazing and John deserved to know that.

John relaxed against Sherlock, smiling warmly. "I love you, too," he replied against his husband's neck, pressing his nose into Sherlock's skin. "You are the most important person in my life. You are my anchor. My life saver. He lifted his head and rested his chin on Sherlock's chest. "I wish my Mum could have met you."

Emotional talk. It wasn't that he minded, it was just that Sherlock could never think of anything to say back until John has said over a dozen things and by then his one thing never really felt like enough. So, he turned his head to kiss his husband on the lips gently in hopes of buying a little time for himself to come up with something to say. That and kissing John was always fantastic.

"Mmm..." John grinned against Sherlock's lips and slowly returned the kiss. He snuck his tongue into his husband's mouth, running it across the top of Sherlock's mouth. The man below him always knew how to kiss, knew exactly what he liked, but he never could figure out what, exactly, made Sherlock squirm during kissing. He sucked at his partner's lower lip and moaned.

Sherlock had already been turned on just by John straddling and now the man above him was sucking on his lip _and_ moaning. He wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to resist shagging his husband, especially now that he had gotten erection. Maybe John wouldn't notice. He continued the kiss, resisting the urge to buck up into his husband.

Based on the erection he felt tenting the boxers Sherlock was wearing, John decided he must have found what his husband really liked. He pulled away from the kiss with a small gasp, looking between them proudly. Earlier, Sherlock had turned him down but now... How could his husband turn him down with such obvious interest? "Can I touch you?" He asked softly. Maybe if it was just his hand then Sherlock would say yes.

"Yes, oh God yes please." So much for self control. Maybe with just a hand job, John wouldn't use up too much energy. His husband should really be saving his strength, to get better quicker. Sherlock didn't hold back now, and he bucked into the man above him with a small whimper of desire. He had never wanted a hand job so badly before in his life.

The moment John felt Sherlock buck into him, he slammed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. It wouldn't do any good to exhaust himself. If he stayed patient then it would pay off in the end. He scooted back to rest on Sherlock's thighs, slowly pulling the boxers down with a wicked grin. "Okay," he whispered as he wrapped his hand around his husband's cock and gave it a slow stroke.

Sherlock whimpered again as soon as he felt John's hand on his cock. He squirmed up into the touch with a moan. "…'sgood John. Don't stop, please." Ever since he had started talking and making noise, he had found he didn't ever want to be quiet during any kind of sexual act ever again. Also, his husband seemed to really enjoy when he did it to. So, win-win.

John smiled a bit but didn't look up to look at his husband. His gaze was locked on his hand, starting a slow and tight rhythm on Sherlock's penis. After a few more strokes he took a deep breath, slid further down Sherlock's body, and took the head of his husband's penis into his mouth. All he wanted to do right now was spoil his husband and thank him for being by his side while he had been sick.

"Just…" Sherlock trailed off with a moan when he tried to tell John that only a hand job was needed. He didn't want his husband to wear out but he couldn't seem to form the words to say so. His eyes closed with another moan and he managed to keep his body still at least. He did reach down to scratch slightly at the top of his husband's head though.

John exhaled loudly through his nose, using his tongue to trace his husband's cock before he started lightly bobbing his head. The feeling of Sherlock's hand on the back of his head made him moan softly around his husband's penis, his hand moving in faster strokes. Good. Sherlock was enjoying it. He paused, took a deep breath as he pulled his hand away, and took as much as Sherlock's penis into his mouth as he could.

With restraint Sherlock remained still for John, with a whimper. "Oh God…" He trailed off with a loud moan when his husband damn near swallowed his whole cock. "Oh God yes, so wonderful…" He moaned again, fingers scratching a little more deeply now. On strands that were long enough on John's head, he pulled in his ecstasy.

John only moved his tongue before he gagged slightly, pulling back a bit so he could breathe and to moan because, _God_ his hair was long enough to pull. Sherlock's voice urged him on and he lowered his head again, stopping when his nose his husband's body. He didn't stay for long, pulling away with a weak cough before he started bobbing his head again, his hand wrapping around the part he wasn't getting to.

Shit. John was coughing. Sherlock should tell his husband that this had been a bad idea…and oh God his partner was sucking him off again. He moaned, pulling the hair a little more roughly in his excitement. "Don't stop John…please…" He really shouldn't be encouraging his husband but it was the only thing he could seem to say right now.

God. At this point John was fairly sure he was never going to cut his hair because it felt wonderful to have it pulled. He used his tongue to press Sherlock's cock against the top of his mouth, sucking on it several times rather loudly. There was another feeling in his throat but he fought it, managing not to cough as he hummed around his husband's penis.

Sherlock came with a loud moan and even though he hadn't really been doing anything he was panting. "…'sgood John…real good…" He resumed the scratching of John's head. He opened his eyes and tilted his head down to look at John. Shit. Was his husband okay? He had at least maintained enough control to not to fuck his partner's mouth.

John managed to swallow everything before pulling away with several coughs. Right. So, Sherlock had been right and waiting probably would have been a good idea. God, he couldn't stop coughing. He sat up, his face red, as he continued to cough. It took several moments, John leaning forward and holding himself up with his arms, before he managed to take a deep breath. "Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile and a quick glance at his husband. "That was good," he added with a grin.

As soon as John started coughing, Sherlock sat up. His lips pressed together in a frown. "You aren't the one who should be apologizing. It's me. I should have stopped you, made sure you would be okay." He wrapped his arms around his husband, giving the other man a gentle hug. He leaned his head into John's shoulder once he was sure the coughing fit was over. He really was an idiot sometimes. He should have insisted on just the hand job. "I'm sorry," he murmured quietly.

What? John laughed softly and shook his head. "You weren't going to stop me, Sherlock," he whispered softly, wrapping his arms around his husband. "I was going to do it anyway. Planned it from the beginning." He took a deep breath and let his eyes slip close, his chest moving in several slow breaths. It had been amazing for him, really, and he wasn't going to complain about anything. "Don't apologize, I did it for you."

"Just take it easy the next day or so then. You need to get better my Love." Sherlock lifted his head and gave John a small smile. He leaned forward and gave his husband a quick kiss on the lisps. "Come on, lay down with me." He eased John down with him, snuggling into the body next to him immediately. He ran his fingers through his husband's hair lightly.


	52. Chapter 52

John followed his husband with a smile, his eyes slipping closed as he relaxed. "Giving you blow jobs is one of my favorite things," he said softly, burying his face into his husband's hair. Did he really just say that? Good Lord, he needed to put a filter on his mouth. "I'm...sorry. That was...sorry."

Sherlock smirked and kissed the shoulder his head was nuzzled into. "Why ever for my dear doctor? You are fine." He kissed his husband's shoulder again in reassurance. Did he have a favorite thing to do for John? He had never really thought about it before. He did enjoy marking his husband but that was more for him than John.

"Because I should keep some things to myself," John laughed softly and took a deep breath. "But it is true. You are so expressive and now that you talk I just...it is wonderful." There. So he had told Sherlock that and there was no going back. His husband should know all of the things he enjoyed. Not all communication had to be about negative things.

Sherlock smirked again. "Well, I didn't know how amazing talking and making noise was before. I was obviously missing out." He shrugged a bit. "And you always like it, so definitely worth it." He was quiet a moment. "I like the smile you get when I tell you 'I love you' first," he admitted quietly.

For a moment John was fairly sure his heart stopped because _that_ was something more personal than giving blow jobs. He couldn't even speak. God, that was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. He looked down at Sherlock was a small smile, eyes wide as he tried to focus. "I love you," he finally whispered.

This was one of those instances where Sherlock couldn't gauge what he had said had been well or ill received. "I love you too." He was quiet for a bit before he looked up at John. "That was okay then? I…never know if I say the right things sometimes." He felt stupid for the admission but it was true. Sometimes what he said was good, fantastic even and other times a fight would erupt.

"Fantastic. It was fantastic," John whispered with a smile and a soft laugh. "You always say you don't know what to say but you _always_ say the right thing. It is always good." He met his husband's lips again. Despite what had happened to them, almost drowning and being exhausted, he was glad they were forced to stay in bed together. "You can act a bit more confident because you are figuring out this relationship thing."

Good. Sherlock relaxed back down against his husband's shoulder. "Are you sure you want me to do that? I am pretty cocky and confident about everything else already." He smirked up at John. "Then again, I'm perfect and amazing so it would only be natural I would perfect the art of being in a relationship."

"Hush," John said with a laugh, playfully pushing at his husband's chest. "I do want that, though. I want to see you approach our relationship with the same confidence that you use approaching a crime scene. I want...I want you to not be scared," he said softly. And it was all honest and not meant to start a fight, something he was suddenly nervous about.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly and then shrugged. "I guess, since I have never been in one before I am still trying to figure it out. And when I think I _do_ , I don't really. Something is done or said that leaves my head spinning and sometimes I don't even know what happened. I'm still…in the learning stage I guess. But…I think I am doing better. I have been able to give Mycroft relationship advice and I am more comfortable admitting personal things."

"Nobody ever gets it completely right. Every relationship is different, Sherlock." John lifted a hand and ran it through his husband's hair with a smile. Hell, he had already been through one horrid relationship that was long term and multiples that had failed for one reason or another. "I don't know everything. Probably never will but I am all right with it because we are learning together."

Sherlock smiled, liking the sound of that. The smile twisted into a smirk when he looked back up at John. "Just you wait. I will become so good at this relationship thing that I will be so cocky and confident that you will be wishing for me to be apprehensive again." He snuggled back into his husband's shoulder because he found it to be quite comfortable to be nestled into.

"Oh really?" John laughed and pulled Sherlock closer with a grin. "We will see about that, I am sure. You have the rest of our lives to figure this all out, remember?" He placed a kiss on his husband's temple and took a deep breath. "I hate to ruin this moment but I think I am going to be sick," he whispered, pulling away from his husband gently and moving to the bathroom. He settled in front of the toilet and waited for several moments before he started to vomit, trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

Sherlock frowned, his eyebrows crinkling together. When John had swallowed his semen, it probably hadn't been the best of ideas. He sighed, slamming his head into the pillow below him in frustration. He should have said 'no' when his husband had asked to give him a hand job. He should have known how it would have turned out. Now John was sick because of him. He sighed again, got up and moved to the bathroom. He wasn't really sure if there was anything he could though.

After emptying the contents of his stomach, John was doing nothing but dry heaving. One hand was rested on his stomach, the other curled around the cool porcelain of the toilet. Jesus, this wasn't at comfortable at all. He heard Sherlock move into the bathroom and whimpered, dry heaving again and ending with a bit of a cough. The last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock feel guilty for the blow job but he wasn't doing a very good job. "You are fine," he muttered, lifting his head slightly.

"I may be fine but _you_ aren't." Sherlock sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi and watched his husband with worried eyes. Damn it. "John, I am serious. The next couple days you are going to take it easy. You need to get better my dear doctor." Resolve and determination was in his voice but he wondered if this time he would stick to it. God, he really was a sex addict wasn't he?

"Mmph," John replied before dry heaving again, coughing harshly before lifting his head and slumping heavily against the toilet. That had exhausted him and, Jesus, it felt like it was never going to stop. He lifted himself up again, vomiting with a whimper. There could only be so much left in his stomach. "Isn't your fault," he said softly, turned his head to look at Sherlock with a weak smile.

Not his fault. Yeah, right. There was no point in arguing about it. What mattered right now was getting John better. Sherlock managed to smile back faintly, but his eyes still held worry. There wasn't anything he could do for his husband at the moment. That was the most frustrating part of this whole situation. He didn't like for things to be out of his control.

John didn't move for a while and let out a soft sigh of relief when it felt like his stomach was done. He sat up slowly and pushed himself back to rest against the side of the Jacuzzi, letting his head fall against the side of his husband's thigh. Deep breaths. His eyes slip closed and he coughed slightly. "Sorry."

Sherlock reached down, running his hand through John's hair soothingly. "You are fine my Love. Just sit and rest for bit, I am right here." He shifted a bit so he could put both hands on his husband's shoulders and began to massage them lightly. He hoped to help John relax by the gentle motions.

John moaned slightly from Sherlock's touch, his body relaxing instantly as he smiled. It was clear to him, in his hazy thoughts, that he had clearly married the perfect man. "I love you," he whispered with a grin. "You married an idiot," he added with a soft chuckle. Good Lord, Sherlock's hands were like magic.

Sherlock smiled. "I love you too." He continued the gentle massage, his thumbs moving to do small circles on either side of John's neck. "If you want I can give you full massage on the bed. Only if you are ready to get up, that is my dear doctor." He leaned down kissed the top of his husband's head.

Oh. A full massage. That sounded wonderful. John smiled a bit a nodded. "Yeah, sounds good," he whispered softly. How could he even think about turning that down? "Jus' let me get up." He took a deep, hesitant breath and stood slowly, swaying slightly on his feet and bracing himself against the wall. "Good. I am good," he stated as he started moving slowly toward their bedroom.

Sherlock hopped off the Jacuzzi and caught up with John easily. He locked their arms together gently, so he could help his husband back to the bed. Once John was ready, he straddled his husband on the hips and began massaging the upper back first. "Let me know if it hurts too much at anytime."

John relaxed and sighed shakily into the mattress, nodding his head the best he could. Except this would never hurt, it was perfect. One hand lifted above his head and gripped at the pillow as he tried not to sound so damn sexual. A moan slipped through his lips and he laughed. "So good," he said with a soft smile.

Sherlock smiled and continued the gentle pressure on John's back. Maybe he should continue the story with the knight and orphan. He thought for a moment before he began the third part of the tale; he had secretly come to enjoy telling. "Even though the knight and orphan were stuck in alternate plane of existence, they had figured out a way to get back to theirs. There used to be portals that could teleport people between the two worlds, but those of course were broken. With the right tools and material they could be rebuilt. So, the knight and orphan went on many adventures together. Killing bandits, slaying dragons, and even saving a princess from an evil prince. By the time they had finally gathered everything they needed, the orphan was no longer a boy but a man. He could now use a sword, which the knight taught him to use. They got the teleport to work after many weeks of working on it. When they stepped on the working mechanism, a bright light shrouded and blinded them. When the bright light finally died down and they could see again, they found themselves in a burning city. They vowed to make the evil wizard pay for this. Only they didn't realize it wasn't the sorcerer, a new much worse threat had taken over while they were gone."

John listened intently and slowly opened his eyes to look at his husband the best he could. "Oi, you can't jus' stop there," he muttered into the pillow. He let his eyes slipped closed again he smirked. "I hope the knight got to marry that princess," he whispered as his body slowly started to go limp. Maybe he could just rest for a little bit, maybe that would be all right. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Sherlock smirked. "It's called a cliffhanger John. You will just have to wait to hear the story some other time." The smirk softened into a smile when his husband fell asleep. Good. He was hoping that would happen. He laid down next to John, snuggling into his husband's side. While telling the third part of the story, he had decided he was going to have it written down and published. Maybe it could be like a side job, writing children's books. He would of course write under a pseudo name. He had a reputation to keep after all.

John slept for several hours, waking up with a soft sigh. It was dark outside. Had he fallen asleep? He stretched slightly and looked down at his husband with a tired smile. "Mmm, hi." He let his eyes close again and stretched some more. His body felt loads better and he didn't feel like coughing. "How are you?" He asked as he lifted an arm to rest protectively over his husband's torso.

"I am well my dear doctor. How are you feeling?" Sherlock was glad that John had been able to sleep so long. His husband had needed it. He had watched over his partner the entire time, to make sure John was okay. He leaned over and kissed his husband on the lips gently and briefly. "I love you."

John smiled but didn't return the kiss. He had practically thrown up his stomach and that wasn't romantic at all. "Good. I am good. I feel a lot better," he stated with a small nod. It was all because of his husband, too. Without Sherlock's help he wouldn't have tried to break his fever or anything. "I owe you a lot." He grinned and his hand moved to run through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock smiled. "Good, I am glad." He shrugged a bit. "You don't owe me a thing Love." He leaned over again, this time kissing John on the nose. "So, while you were sleeping I decided to try and publish the story for little Sandi. Maybe read it to her before bed time. Parents do that, don't they?" He wasn't sure. He had never had stories before sleeping as a child. He had read about it one of the parental books he had bought for research.

"They read them stories, yes." John smiled a bit and laughed. "Don't always publish them but you are Sherlock Holmes so I don't really see a problem." He grinned and pulled Sherlock closer. "She is going to love it, though. I know she will." He started tracing soft shapes between his husband's shoulder blades. "I do owe you for taking care of me."

"Part of my job of being your husband is to take you care of you. You would have done the same for me, if the roles were reversed." Sherlock smiled and gave a slight shrug. "But if you really want to make it up to me, you could lay in bed here with me and we could snuggle the night away. Sounds like a fair trade to me."

"I can do that," John replied with a proud smile. That was exactly what his body wanted, really. A day of laying in bed against a wonderfully warm person. That was exactly what he imagined the doctor ordered. "Can I make some tea first? My stomach is still a bit upset and I think that might help," he whispered nervously, taking a deep breath and smiling sheepishly.

"I will make the tea. You stay in bed Love." Sherlock kissed the top of John's head before sliding out of bed. He slid on the boxers he had been wearing earlier and then walked out to the kitchen. It didn't take long to make tea and prepare two cups. He walked back to the bedroom, with a tray. He set it on the night stand. It occurred to him dishes would need to be done soon at some point.

Well, this was more like some fancy hotel than anything. John smiled up at his husband, taking his cup and sitting up to take a slow slip. The movement had agitated his stomach slightly but he ignored it, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "I didn't mean to ruin your plans," he finally said. It was clear he had been holding it in, not wanting to tell his husband. "I want something that you planned to happen, though, I promise."

"My dear doctor it is fine. I am supposed to take care of and that is exactly what I am going to do." Sherlock gave John a reassuring smile. He sat down near the edge of the bed, took his cup and began sipping on the tea slowly. He always took his time when drinking and even eating.

This was an entirely different Sherlock he was dealing with, it felt like. "I don't want to push you," John started out slowly and took a deep breath. "Are you upset about me going out there to get you?" He finally asked, his gaze holding steady as he studied his husband. Sherlock had been acting a bit different the moment he had woken up in that lighthouse

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Mad? Why would I be mad about that? You saved my life John. I guess...I just...when I let go, I was ready to die. I didn't want to, I just...it was the only thing I could think of so you might have chance to get you to safety. I feel like I have been given a second chance with you and I don't want to mess it up..." He shrugged, dropping his gaze. God when did he start to sound so needy?

Right. John had asked a question and the answer had ripped his heart out. The mug slipped from his hands and hit the blanket, his tea spilling everywhere. He couldn't be bothered to look, his eyes locked on his husband. _Oh_. "Y-You're not going to mess anything up," he said softly, taking a shaky breath. "I...you're not," he repeated weakly because, damn it, Sherlock was the most perfect man he had ever met.

Sherlock frowned as John dropped the cup. Had he said something wrong? His husband was upset. Great. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup. He didn't know what to say now. What he said had been true though. He had been willing to die so John could be safe, yet here they both were alive. He was determined to be the best husband ever. What if next time he didn't make it? Would his husband know how much he meant to him? Almost drowning and dying...it had put things in perspective...

"I love you," John said softly, picking his cup up and kicking the blankets to the end of the bed. "God, I love you." He straddled his husband's hips swiftly, framing Sherlock's face in his hands and meeting his lips. Nobody had ever said something like that to him. He'd had men sacrifice their lives for him but nobody ever told him that, some didn't even make it. And here Sherlock was, changing his life because of what happened.

So John wasn't mad? Sherlock smiled, fumbling a bit as he took the time to set the cup of tea down. He then wrapped his arms around his husband and hugged the other man close to him tightly. "I love you too." He had been scared at the lighthouse, like he had at the hospital the day John was shot. Too many close calls for them. He needed to stop being so stubborn and selfish, there was more than just him to worry about. What if… He took shuddering breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and pressed his head into his husband's shoulder.

John moved a hand to rest one the back of Sherlock's head, scratching at his husband's scalp. "It's okay," he whispered. His husband hadn't verbalized that something was wrong but he could feel it. The way he had let out his breath was enough for him. There was a moment where he felt helpless but he pushed it away to take care of Sherlock. "We're both here. We are fine."

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled into the shoulder as he loosened his grip on John. Okay. He was fine now, right? No reason for any of this really. Stupid emotions. He hated them sometimes but he didn't want to go back to living without them. He finally lifted his head to look at his husband with a small smile and then leaned in for a kiss. It was a little more aggressive and needy than he had meant.

John moaned softly into the kiss, tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair. Earlier his husband had said that he wanted to wait for a few days but after this...shit. John pushed his hips back and away from Sherlock to hide his growing erection. The last thing he wanted was to tempt his husband. He had seen the look on Sherlock's face when he was throwing up. But this was good, very good, and he didn't really want to stop.

Sherlock really wanted John right now, but he didn't want desperate, needy sex. He wanted what they planned before all this had happened. God, he still _needed_ that. He continued the kiss anyway, breathing loudly through his nose when he refused to break it. He hadn't realized what an emotional mess he was until now and he didn't know any other way to fix it, so his kiss became progressively more needy and sloppier.

Right. God, what a wonderful kiss. John whimpered into Sherlock's mouth, gasped and moved forward, pressing his erection against his husband's stomach. He couldn't help himself. The kiss was needy and desperate and they clearly both felt like that. His hips didn't move after that, keeping his cock trapped between them as he followed the sloppy kiss the best he could.

Sherlock whimpered when he felt John's penis against his stomach. He finally broke the kiss panting for a moment before speaking. "Fuck me, please. God I need you right now." So much for waiting a couple days for his husband to get better before they shagged. His fingers clawed gently at John's back, his body bucking up into the man above him fervently as another whimper escaped his lips.

Okay. Could he do this? Would John's body be able to even last that long? "Yeah. Slow?" He slipped slightly on the sheet his arms giving out from just holding him up for so long. But Sherlock wanted this and he didn't want to disappoint his husband. "Jus'. Yeah. Lube," he said weakly as he tried to push himself up again.

Shit. What the hell was he thinking? "John...wait. Stop. I'm sorry. Just...just lay here with me?" Sherlock sighed, his eyes slamming shut. He did want his husband but he couldn't be selfish, not right now. John could barely keep food down, now was not the time to shag.

Stop? John sighed and relaxed against his husband, his hands clutching at the sheet below them. "Sorry," he muttered with a small frown. Had he disappointed Sherlock? That was the last thing he wanted. "Sorry," he repeated as he pressed his face into Sherlock's chest.

Why was John apologizing? Sherlock gave his husband a reassuring smile. "You are fine my dear doctor." He reached a hand down to John's face, giving the cheek soothing strokes. Maybe he was getting better at self control. He supposed that was a good thing, despite the fact he still wanted his husband.

"It is going to make our romantic night a lot better," John whispered with a small laugh. The soothing movement of Sherlock's hand made his eyes flutter shut. Despite being little more than skin an bones, his husband made a wonderful pillow. "Sorry I couldn't shag you. Sorry," he repeated with a small yawn.

Yes. Making love under the stars. In his haze of excitement Sherlock had almost forgotten about it. It was better to wait. "You should sleep some more my dear doctor." He moved his hand up to John's head, where he began scratching lightly at the scalp to help relax his husband even further.

John mumbled something into his husband's chest and stretched slightly against Sherlock's body. "Not tired," he whispered softly as his fingers curled tightly into the sheet on the bed. "Stay awake with you," he added with a small yawn. He was fighting it, trying to stay awake so he could keep his husband company. "I love you."

Sherlock smirked a bit and kissed the top of John's head. Not tired indeed. He snuggled in closer to his husband. "Love you too." He continued to run his fingers through John's hair lightly. He decided to stay quiet, in hopes sleep would find his husband anyway, even though the other man was fighting it.

Quiet. Sherlock's chest was moving in such a wonderfully shallow way and his heartbeat was powerful and an anchor. John finally relaxed fully against his husband, snoring softly against Sherlock's chest. He slept for several hours before slowly waking up, shifting slightly against his husband. God, he hated being sick.


	53. Chapter 53

Sherlock smiled when John fell asleep. Good. His husband needed to rest as much as possible. The coughing seemed to be gone, along with the fever. Very good indeed. When he felt John move he tilted his head down to look at his husband. "Good morning Love." He kissed the top of John's head as he gave his husband a hug.

"Morning," John whispered with a tired smile, looking up at his husband sheepishly. "Love," he added with a slightly laugh. "Love," he repeated as he titled his head and placed a soft kiss on his husband's neck. Maybe tonight they could finally have their romantic night. He was feeling better and, God, he wanted to make Sherlock happy after everything he had done.

Sherlock smiled down at John and then titled his head so his husband could have better access to his neck. "How are you feeling?" He wrapped an arm around his partner, so he could pull John closer to him. "Well enough to finally eat, maybe? I can make you breakfast in bed, only if you are up to it of course."

"Hmm?" John lifted his head slightly and nodded. "I'm fantastic and breakfast sounds lovely." He gently met his husband's lips. Except that would mean Sherlock getting up and he really didn't want that. "Can we shag after that?" He asked softly, meeting Sherlock's gaze with a hopeful smile. It was their honeymoon, he didn't want to sit around. He wanted to take advantage of Sherlock like this before they got back to London.

It was weird to hear that question, because really they usually just shagged whenever the hell they wanted to. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before answering. "Can we wait until tonight?" He still wanted the dinner under the stars and everything, even more furiously than before. If John really wanted to, he would probably give in but maybe his husband would agree.

If he waited until tonight he would give Sherlock something he really wanted. He could wait. "Of course," John whispered softly, a hand sliding between them to gently scratch at his husband's stomach. "Tonight, then. I'm feeling so much better." He grinned eagerly and ran his free hand through Sherlock's hair. "I have a bit of an idea...if you still want to watch porn." He looked up at Sherlock hesitantly. "We could do that after breakfast?"

If Sherlock had been drinking something he was certain he would have spit it all over at the mention of that accursed word. _That_ word. Just thinking about it… No. He shook his head. "I would really rather not," he replied quietly as he tried to relax his now suddenly tense body. That God damned word was what had got them here in the first place and if he never heard it again, it would be too soon.

Still a touchy subject, then. John closed his eyes for a long moment and nodded. "Sorry didn't mean to..." Of course he would continue to mess things up. That was just how this relationship was, wasn't it? "You just had said...Never mind, forget I mentioned it." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's chest and rested his head, nuzzling against his husband's skin in order to try and comfort him. That had been stupid, why did he even bring it up?

Never. Sherlock was determined he would never watch porn, _ever_. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and forced himself to relax. "It's fine. I had been curious before, but now…" He trailed off with a shake of his head. "…Well, I'm just not anymore…" The word swirled in him a strong visceral reaction and he was certain if he had eaten at all in the last few days it would have been all over the floor.

"It is fine," John whispered in reassurance. It was all fine. At this point he wished he hadn't even brought it up because their entire morning had just come crashing down. He had ruined it, in typical John Watson fashion. "Sorry. I didn't...Sorry..." He shifted against his husband and gently met his lips, trying to apologize through the kiss. Fix the morning. "How about I make breakfast?"

Sherlock managed to small smile. "You are fine and I am still making breakfast. You, my Love, are staying in bed, until tonight." The smile turned into smirk. Yes. Think about tonight. Much better already. He finally got up. "A light breakfast my dear doctor? So we will be hungry for dinner tonight?"

John rolled on to his side with a small frown. God, it was cold already. "Toast. Probably the best thing for my stomach." He smiled a bit and curled into the blankets, grinning like an idiot. "And tea, of course. Can never go wrong with that." He wiggled as his foot poked out from under the blanket, his toes curling against Sherlock's thigh. "Can't wait to make love to you."

Sherlock was actually starving. He hadn't eaten in almost five days, but he had been taking care of John for most of them. "Tea and toast it is then, my Love. I can't wait for tonight, either." He smiled at his husband before leaving the bedroom. Once he was sure John couldn't see him, he slumped against the wall in the kitchen. God his body was weak and he hadn't really noticed until he had finally gotten out of bed. In his worry for his husband, he had completely forgotten to take care of himself and now he was paying for it

"Need a chair?" Anthea smiled at Sherlock as warm as she could manage, her mobile in one hand and the other offered out at him. "We wanted to tell you but...John was bad, we knew we couldn't convince you to get away from him. Sit down, we can give you some medicine and we already have some food ready for you."

Sherlock hadn't realized that Anthea and the doctor were still in the beach house. He found this to be annoying. "I am fine." He leaned up off the wall, to prove his point. " _I'm_ making John breakfast," he practically growled out the words. It was _his_ job, and no one else's. He walked over to the fridge stubbornly and slammed it closed when he was done getting things out.

"We recommend sitting down, Sherlock," Anthea said softly. It wasn't rude or condescending but... worried. "Please. If only for a few moments." She watched her employer's younger brother with a bit of a frown. None of this was good. With John getting better Sherlock should be on his way up, too. But it had been five days since he had focused on himself and it was starting to show.

"I said I am fine. Why are you even still here?" Sherlock didn't bother to hide the agitation in his voice. He began making tea for John and hot chocolate for himself. He put down white toast for his husband and when it was done he put jam on it. He made raisin toast for himself, four slices rather than two. It would be enough to hold him over until dinner at least. Once the kettle went off he prepared John's cup and then his own with cocoa mix. Bloody perfect, no trays left to carry the dishes. He slammed the cupboard closed. Why was he suddenly so angry? Was it just the presence of Anthea and the doctor?

"Calm down." Anthea kept her distance and pushed a tray toward Sherlock, putting everything on it before clearing her throat. "There. I am here because your brother asked me but if you don't want help I will stay in the living room." She turned back to her mobile and moved back to the couch where the telly was on. "Sorry," she muttered to herself as she started typing.

Sherlock glared at Anthea and picked up the tray. It shook in his hands and he had to place it back down on the counter before the contents of the cups sloshed out. Maybe he should sit down for a bit. He slid down against the cabinets, leaning his head against the door. He closed his eyes, intending only to rest for a few minutes but he ended up passing out instead.

"Stubborn git." Anthea stood up and the doctor was at her side as they picked Sherlock up and moved him to the couch, laying him down gently. It wasn't long before John was out of the bedroom, his boxers yanked on and his eyes wide. "Doctor Watson, please sit down," she commanded steadily and he did as told.

Passed out. Sherlock had passed out and that was because he hadn't been taking care of himself. All his fault. "Fuck," John muttered as he buried his face in his hands. The doctor wasted no time in giving Sherlock an injection to help with the lack of food.

Sherlock groaned as the injection was given to him but didn't wake up. His body had gotten enough sleep but no food since the day he found the lighthouse. He hadn't eaten since ordering in at the restaurant. He slept a couple hours, his eyes opening slowly and taking a moment to focus.

"Git," John said with a smile, looking down at his husband with relief. Awake. God, they couldn't handle much more of this. "I made some new food, if you are up for it. You're a bit weak." He shifted so he could sit on the floor, his back pressed against the couch. "Only if you want. I sent them out so you wouldn't be so upset," he said with a knowing grin before lifting a hand up and running it gently across his husband's stomach.

Sherlock managed a weak smirk at John's words, pleased that they were alone. "Hadn't realized how much I had neglected myself the last few days. Think I will be okay if I eat." He sat up slowly, with a slight groan. "Sorry, didn't mean to worry you."

"Nope. No." John sat up a bit and placed his hand on Sherlock's chest, pushing him back down. "Bed rest. My orders," he said softly. "I am fine now. Don't worry about me. They gave you an injection to help you out a bit." He reached down and grabbed a slice of raisin toast, reaching up to hold it against his husband's lips. "Small bite?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock muttered but laid back down anyway. Food. He felt like he could eat the whole thing in one bite but that probably wasn't wise. He took a small bite like instructed, chewing slowly. "No beach tonight?" He had ruined their plans hadn't he? All because he had been stupid and not taken care of himself at all.

"Maybe tomorrow night," John said with a smile, looking at his husband reassuringly. "It is fine, though. We have both got to be healthy and that's just going to make it better." He leaned back against the couch, his head resting against his husband's hip. "Here. 'Nother one." He held up the bread but held it there longer so Sherlock could take a bigger bite this time.

Sherlock gave a resigned sigh but nodded anyway. He took another bite of the bread. He spoke after chewing and swallowing. "Can we move to the bed at least? Want to snuggle with you at least." He pouted a bit, not caring if he sounded like a child right now.

John laughed and nodded his head, putting the toast back on the plate at his side. "Yeah. Let me help you." He smiled as he stood up, linking an arm around his husband's shoulders and helping him stand. It didn't take much for him to help Sherlock to their room and lay him on the bed. "Be right back." He placed a kiss on his husband's forehead, left for a moment, and returned with the plate of toast. "Now c'mere amazing husband." He moved to his side of the bed and sat up against the headboard, holding the toast out so Sherlock could take a few more bites.

With John's help, Sherlock made it to the bedroom. He laid down on the bed with a slight groan. Shit, he was still feeling weak. This was stupid; he should be taking care of his husband. Not the other way around. He shifted a bit, so he could take bites of the toast. "Sorry," he muttered. They were supposed to be making love tonight and now they couldn't because he hadn't been strong enough for his husband.

Sorry? John shook his head instantly and wrapped an arm around his husband's shoulders. "Don't apologize, Sherlock. It is fine," he said softly. There was no reason for his husband to feel bad at all. The man had put his entire focus on John and now he had to return the favor. That was what being married was all about. "I love you. You are perfect." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's temple.

"I love you too. Also, I am perfect and amazing," Sherlock corrected, although not with his usual zeal and cockiness. He decided he was done eating and he snuggled into John's shoulder. He wasn't tired but he wasn't at full strength either. "So, bed rest all day then? Seems like strict orders from my Doctor." He managed a faint smirk.

"Bed rest and eating," John said softly, lifting the toast to his mouth and taking a bite. "You need some carbs so I am going to make some pasta for you. Or potatoes. But in a bit you need to eat." He finished off the first slice of toast with a small smile. "Maybe a blow job to help you sleep."

"I am eating," Sherlock muttered, his lip puckering into a pout. God, he was hungry though. He was just being a stubborn child, like usual. A blow job sounded absolutely wonderful, better than any kind of food. Except, he wasn't sure he had the strength to do anything sexual. That and the last time hadn't been good for John.

"You stopped and it won't be a massive meal." John smiled and started gently rubbing his husband's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The last thing he needed was Sherlock arguing while he was this weak. "Do you want to sleep? Maybe talk?" He bent his head and gently met his husband's lips.

Sherlock mumbled and then shrugged. "Not tired." Talking always seemed to result in a fight these days. Kissing. That was always good distraction. He returned the kiss, slowly moving so he could be on top of John. That shouldn't be as tiring and work as it had been. It didn't matter though, he was snogging with his husband.

Even in his weakened state Sherlock had a control streak in him. John laughed softly into his husband's mouth and continued the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock to support him. He didn't want his husband to pass out again or get too weak. God, he should have pulled away from the kiss but he couldn't help himself. He nipped at Sherlock's lower lip with a small growl.

Sherlock smirked a bit, pressing his body into the man below him eagerly. He had gone from being unsure if he wanted anything sexual, to wanting it immediately. Would he be able to get an erection right now? God, he hoped so. He moved his lips and began marking John's neck with small sucking circles and bites.

Too far. John pulled his neck away from his husband's mouth with a small gasp, shaking his head as his hands moved to hold Sherlock's hips still. "No. We can't," he said softly, a bit of a frown on his face. "Wait. You are weak. Just...let's wait." He pressed their foreheads together and let his eyes close.

Damn it. Sherlock sighed, moving his head to rest on John's shoulder. Be good or try to convince his husband to keep going? He decided on trying to seduce the man below him. He began licking and kissing the scar on the shoulder, his body squirming into John. He whimpered into his husband's skin.

John moaned. His scars were so sensitive and Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing with his mouth. "Jesus." He lifted a hand to scratch gently at his husband's back, his breathing suddenly a bit faster. "Good," he muttered as any thoughts of stopping were immediately erased.

Sherlock smirked, rather pleased. He continued to shower the scar with gentle kisses, his body writhing into John. Except he wasn't getting hard. His body probably couldn't perform right now, in his weakened state. Shagging was the only thing he could think of for a distraction, and he wanted it badly.

It didn't take long for John to realize, through his haze of arousal, that Sherlock wasn't getting hard. He sat up with a small gasp, watching his husband's mouth before pushing a finger under Sherlock's chin, lifting his head up. "You can't," he said softly, shifting and rolling so he would end up on top of his husband and settled between his legs. "Wait. Tomorrow night will be here and it won't be needy or desperate, it will be what you really want."

"Don't want to wait." Sherlock was pouting now, even though he knew John was right. They hadn't shagged since being in the sea and with constantly shagging on their honeymoon this was practically torture to him. He sighed in resignation. "Can't wait for tomorrow," he said quietly, looking up at his husband with a small smile.

Sherlock wasn't making this decision any easier. John took a deep breath, returning his husband's smile. "You can't even get an erection. You can wait, I promise. Please. I am not going to shag you." He dropped his head and gave Sherlock a gentle kiss. "I sucked you off yesterday. You should be fine."

Sherlock smirked and shook his head. "You misunderstood my dear doctor. I _can_ wait, even though I don't want to. I meant I can't wait for tomorrow night to happen." He had never really asked John for something like this, and he really wanted it to happen. Things just kept getting in the way. All because of that stupid fight. His own stupid decisions. He had put his husband's life in danger. He was certain he would never forgive himself for it.

John blushed instantly and averted his gaze. "Oops." He laughed nervously and leaned down to give his husband with a smile. "Bed rest. A small meal...then you will be set." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. "I will take you nice a slow, talk to you, make you shout at the sky." He kissed Sherlock again, a devilish smirk on his lips.

The smirk returned. "Keep that up and I just might not be able to wait." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, holding his husband close for awhile before finally releasing the man above him. "I will only eat if you feed me some more." His smirk got bigger.

"So picky," John said softly, his eyes studying his husband's face. "But I think I can manage that. It shouldn't be a problem." He shifted to look at the clock in the room. The last thing he wanted to do was force Sherlock to do anything. After their wedding he had learned. "Will you be ready to eat in two hours or so?" He turned back to look at his husband curiously.

Two hours? He had to wait to eat? "I don't suppose I could eat now? Because honestly, I haven't been this hungry since..." Sherlock trailed off, hesitant to mention the time they had been abducted. That whole incident for John was a little too fresh for his husband and he didn't want to remind his partner of it if he didn't have to.

John brought his eyebrows together for a moment, trying to figure out how that sentence was going to end before he cracked a smile. Never in his life did the think he would hear Sherlock ask for food. "Of course. That _does_ mean I am going to have to get up to cook it. Is that all right with you?" He gently met his husband's lips.

Sherlock was about to tell John to heat up some leftovers until he remembered the pizza was over a week old now and the ravioli was almost a week. He wouldn't have a problem eating either really but he doubted his husband would be willing to feed him food that old. Right. John would have to leave. He returned the kiss before nodding his consent. "Whatever is fine. Just not a lot. Want to be hungry for tomorrow night." He smiled at just the thought.

"You are going to eat a bit more than you're used to," John muttered as he moved off of his husband and to the floor. "But I will try to make it taste good." With one more smile in Sherlock's direction he moved into the kitchen. It took him around thirty minutes to make a small bowl of pasta with Alfredo sauce and a small piece of garlic bread. He moved into the bedroom with the bowl in his hand, grinning happily. "I think I actually cooked a decent meal," he exclaimed happily, sitting on the bed cross-legged in front of Sherlock with a proud nod.

Sherlock had actually ended up falling asleep while waiting for John to return. He groaned when he heard his husband's voice. Shit. He had only meant to rest his eyes for bit, not take a nap. He looked at John bleary eyed when his husband sat down. "Looks good," he murmured as he sat up a bit so he could eat.

John grimaced at his husband. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up," he whispered, leaning forward to give Sherlock a small kiss. If he would've known that his husband was going to be asleep he would have waited. Getting Sherlock to sleep was quite the accomplishment. "Here." He scooted forward and took the fork, wrapping some spaghetti around it and holding it up to his husband's lips. Perhaps he would fall back asleep once he was full.

"It is fine. Hadn't meant to fall asleep like that anyway." Sherlock returned the kiss with a small smile. He ate the food on the fork. He would have never thought he would let anyone feed him like some incapable infant but it had actually turned out to be quite the turn on for him. Although, it was usually with finger food.

John smiled a bit, leaning forward after Sherlock took his bite to give his husband a quick kiss. "One bite equals one kiss," he stated with a bit of a smirk. He picked up the garlic bread and glanced at his husband before leaning forward and pressing the bread to his husband's lips. After a few seconds be moved and ran his tongue up Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smirked back. He was about to take a bite of the garlic bread but he was distracted by the tongue on his neck. He moaned, tilting his head to the side. John was making it really hard to want to wait until tomorrow night. He was going to want his husband again soon, if this kept up.

"Bread," John said softly against his husband's neck, pressing his nose into the skin with a small chuckle. "Keep eating and I will keep spoiling you." He pulled back with a warm smile and pushed the bread a bit harder against Sherlock's lips. "C'mon." He leaned forward and kept his gaze locked with Sherlock's.

"John, believe me when I tell you I _love_ your tongue on my neck but all that will result will me getting turned on and then extremely sexually frustrated..." Sherlock trailed of, frowning a bit. He hoped he hadn't disappointed his husband. At least he was learning some form of self control out of this whole ordeal. So, that was something at least.

Should he tell Sherlock that was his plan? "Want to suck you off," John admitted softly. It technically wasn't shagging so he should be able to do it. It would make Sherlock tired and require very little real effort on his part. "Eat and I will give you a blow job."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, with a faint smirk. He shook his head though. "It is fine. I can wait, it won't kill me. Besides don't think I will be able to get hard anyway." If John could wait, so could he damn it. He didn't need to be spoiled. He was perfectly content just to spend time with his husband.

John tensed but nodded because, really, it wasn't like he could give Sherlock a blow job if he said no. He smiled a bit and set the garlic bread down, putting more spaghetti on a fork. Understandable. And feeding his husband was quite lovely, even without the kisses and teasing touches. "Then when you are done I want to lay in bed next to you and whisper things to you," he stated softly as he held the fork up to Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock took a bite of the Alfredo. Laying down next to each other, sounded like a wonderful idea. Ever since they spent most of the day curled up in each other, he had wanted to repeat it. Today seemed like a good day for that, didn't it? Whisper things? He always felt weird when they talked, because he didn't know what to say.

"I am going to take your silence as a maybe on the whispering," John whispered as he pulled the fork back, smiling a bit at his husband. "We can lay down, I will do the whispering," he corrected as he lifted the garlic bread to his own lips and took a small bite. Oh...God, it was horrible. He winced and swallowed it with a small cough before glancing at his pasta. Was that horrible, too? Was Sherlock eating it just to make him feel better or because he was really _that_ hungry?

"Want to cuddle like we did the day we took the yacht out," Sherlock admitted quietly. He felt a bit…awkward when he openly divulged such things. He supposed he shouldn't but it was hard for him still. Maybe someday he would be at ease with being open and intimate. He was getting better though, he thought. At the beginning of their relationship there was no way he would have asked for John to make love to him under stars.

"I can do that," John replied softly, glancing down at his bowl. "Do you want to stop eating? I'm...a bit afraid this pasta tastes horrible now. My cooking skills are...not spectacular." But he didn't wait for an answer, setting the bowl down on the bedside table and moving to embrace his husband. After hearing Sherlock ask to just lay in bed he suddenly couldn't keep his hands to himself. "Love you," he whispered in Sherlock's hair as he pulled his husband's head against his chest.

Sherlock frowned a bit. "I thought it tasted fine." Although admittedly, he wasn't a picky eater and he would pretty much eat anything. He was actually still hungry, but John had already put the food down so he just stayed quiet about it. He curled into his husband, snuggling his head deeper into John's chest. "I love you too."


	54. Chapter 54

Had he done something wrong? John moved a hand to rub gently at his husband's back before an idea made him smile. He turned and grabbed a single piece of spaghetti from the bowl, putting one end in his mouth and lifting the other to Sherlock's. He raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly. Still eating but in quite the romantic way. He sucked a bit more of the spaghetti into his mouth and waited for his husband to mirror his actions.

What was John doing? Sherlock stared uncomprehendingly for a moment but eventually he figured it out. He wasn't sure why anyone would want to eat like this, but all right he would humor his husband. He copied John, swallowing his end of the piece of pasta. Was there a point to what they were doing?

John smiled the best he could and moved forward, continuing to eat his half before their lips met. Perfect. His lips moved against Sherlock's slowly, softly, as he smiled a bit. Had Sherlock never done that? Well, stupid question, in hindsight. He pulled away from the kiss with a sheepish smile, clearly a bit nervous about his husband's reaction. "Saw it in a movie once. Always wanted to try it."

Oh. _Oh._ Sherlock smirked a bit as he returned the kiss. "A movie? People jump out of speeding cars in movies, do you want to try that too?" The smirk returned, as he teased John. He nestled his head back into his husband's chest. "So my dear doctor, was it everything you had hoped for? Or was it better, since yours truly was involved?"

"Better because you are an _amazing_ kisser," John whispered as he placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "You are still hungry, I can tell," he added with a small laugh. "It would take a bit to fill you up if we kept doing that and I need to get you better, Love," and then John grinned because, really, that was a wonderful nickname. He suddenly realized why Sherlock enjoyed it so much.

Sherlock smirked even more. "That is because I am amazing and perfect. Oh. Look at you, using a nickname. _My_ nickname, I might add." The smirk continued to grow, his head tilting up so he could look at John. "I am a little hungry, don't want to eat too much otherwise I won't eat tomorrow for our special night."

John laughed and hugged Sherlock closer, playfully using a hand to push his husband's head away. "Hush up, you. It is a nice one and you can't keep them all to yourself." He laughed again and wrapped his legs around Sherlock's body. "Suits you better anyway," he added as he buried his face into his husband's hair with a small blush. God, he felt like a giddy teenager right now.

Sherlock grinned, because it didn't seem like they did this often enough. Sure they talked but it seemed to him they didn't do a lot teasing and joking. They should change that. He helped to entangle their legs together. He sighed happily, his head snuggling into John's chest once more. This was nice. More than that. This moment was perfect.

"I can't call you some ridiculous name like _honey_ ," John whispered, clearly deep in thought. "Hmm, how about Sherly? How does that sound?" He giggled, high pitched and loud, as his cheeks turned red. "Oh, God, I am calling you Sherly. I'm going to do it in front of your Mum and Mycroft." He kept laughing. "What if Amy starts calling you Sherly?" The tips of their noses ended up pressed together as he panted for breath, a foolish grin on his face.

Sherly? What the hell kind of nickname was that? He would rather be called 'Young Master Holmes' at this rate. Sherlock huffed his disapproval, his bottom lip puckering in a pout. He really hoped that name wouldn't stick. Just hearing was enough to make him want to cringe. Should he tell John how much he hated it?

No? John's grin faltered a bit and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. "Right. Not Sherly. Do you get it, though? 'Cause your name...Sherlock an-" He cleared his throat and nodded the best he could. "Yes. Of course. _Not_ Sherly." He licked his lips and went back to focusing intently on his husband's face. "Dear?" His voice was more serious this time, a hand lifting up to rest on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock was not amused by any means every time the name was said. So much for the perfect moment, he thought bitterly. Now he just wanted to curl up and pout, but he was working on not being a child anymore. Being an adult was annoying sometimes. He nodded at the question, not having any problem with 'dear' as a nickname. He didn't trust himself to actually say anything right now, and he just buried his head deeper into John's chest.

The silence coming from his husband was suddenly making John's gut twist. Shit. He had clearly done something wrong he just didn't know what. "Sorry," he whispered softly, grimacing at the sound of it. Sorry for what? He cleared his throat and pressed his nose against the crown of Sherlock's head. "I didn't meant to upset you. At all." He shifted to run his hand up and down Sherlock's spine. "Please...talk."

The hand on his spine was rather relaxing and helped calmed Sherlock down. "I am just being a stupid child. Pouting over," he couldn't even bring himself to say the nickname. He wasn't entirely sure why he hated it so much. It was just a stupid name. Only something so trivial would annoy someone like him. "Just didn't like that nickname. It was stupid to be so upset. I'm sorry."

Oh. John had only been joking but he had slowly learned that Sherlock's feelings weren't quite normal. "Sorry. It is fine. Just...tell me next time, yeah?" He smiled against his husband's scalp and continued the soothing touch on Sherlock's back. "I just had a bit of energy. I always feel wonderful around you as it is, just couldn't help myself." He shifted and pulled Sherlock closer. "'S fine, dear, all fine."

Sherlock smiled. "Like that one though." He turned his head to kiss John's chest a few times before he nestled his head back into it. He draped an arm over his husband's stomach and the other reached up to begin running through John's hair. Better. Much better. And they had talked without getting into a fight. Very good indeed.

"Good," John replied softly as he lifted his free hand up to trace up and down Sherlock's forearm with his fingers. "Not my favorite but it will have to do. I feel like you need a nickname," he explained with a small yawn. He hadn't done anything the past few days and it felt like he had just hit a brick wall. He turned his head away to cough slightly before turning back to Sherlock. "There was a moment where I knew I was falling in love with you...and it scared me."

Sherlock tilted his head up to look at John. "Why was that?" Except, he supposed he had been scared too. Terrified really. He hadn't wanted to feel emotions and despite his best efforts to ignore them, they had come back. "I was too," he admitted. He pressed into his husband's body tightly, seeking the comfort that only the man in his arms was capable of giving him.

"Because you are Sherlock," John whispered. "I remember when it happened. Exactly," he paused, closing his eyes as a small smile tugged at his lips. "The night we got back from the incident at the pool," he started softly, his smile only growing. "And you just looked at me when we got back from the flat. Your hair was everywhere and you just...grinned. Handed me my gun and went off on your way and I knew that moment that I was in love with you." He blushed but didn't open his eyes. He couldn't look at his husband after that.

Okay, well that was weird. The pool was when Sherlock had known too. He supposed he had been fighting it before then, but when John had wrapped his arms around Moriarty with a bomb strapped to his chest it had forced him to acknowledge that he was feeling again. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. It had been a life changing experience. "Me too," he admitted again but this time the words were barely above a whisper. He didn't elaborate. Maybe he just wasn't ready to admit it out loud yet.

If this was some fairy tale then John would have said it was meant to be. But Sherlock was clearly not wanting to talk about it much more because it _was_ an emotional conversation, and he was glad they just weren't fighting. "I love you, my husband," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. There, comforting. Keep him focused on staying happy and getting better. "The best husband."

"Love you too." Sherlock curled into John even more, squeezing their bodies together as tightly as possible. The hand in his husband's hair began to twirl the longer strands around one finger and the rest continued to scratch lightly at the scalp beneath. "I am glad I met you," his voice had dropped to a quiet tone again. Was this what John had meant by whispering to each other?

"I'm glad I decided to move into your mess of a flat a few years ago," John replied with a short, soft laugh. Perfect. Everything about this was absolutely perfect. "I can't imagine myself anywhere else than right here with you." He turned his head slightly and kissed his husband's ear. They had literally been through everything and here they were. It was clear something was watching over them, protecting them. "I am beyond glad you came into my life, Sherlock Holmes."

Things were good again. Better than good, really. Sherlock smiled into John's chest. "I am glad we can talk like this. I didn't think I would like it, but…it is nice." It was also a hell of a lot better than fighting, which to his dismay they did quite a bit of recently. "John, I know we keep saying we shouldn't fight anymore…and we shouldn't. I am going to work on trying to be more understanding and maybe not get upset so easily. I don't like fighting with you." Hopefully he hadn't spoiled everything by his admission.

Now they were communicating, moving forward, and John nodded. "I don't like fighting with you either. It hurts, Sherlock, so much, when we fight. I know, realistically, that we will fight again but...I am going to try harder too. I'm going to work on keeping my cool and just trying to talk to you," he said with a bit of a smile. God, when had they become such the perfect couple? "Starting now let's try not to fight. Let's hear each other out, not walk away...let's fix this."

Sherlock smiled, pleased. He nodded into John's chest. "Yes. Agreed." Finally. Progress. This was definitely good. "Then we will both try harder. That is all we can do really, I guess. And to learn from past mistakes." As far as he knew, they had never had a fight over the same thing twice so that was plus at least.

John was fairly sure that the feeling in his chest was pride. They had talked and moved forward. Was it selfish to say they were the best married couple he had ever seen? It didn't matter, they were. "We will fix this. We always will because I love you, Sherlock. I always will." He moved his head down and chest back to give his husband a gentle kiss.

Sherlock smiled again as he met John's lips. "Glad we talked." For once it had worked out well, and without something terrible happening. Because really, all their fights seemed to lead up to things that were emotionally damaging to both and sometimes it resulted in things even worse, like almost drowning. No. Don't think about that. Think about how nice things are right here and now.

John merely hummed in response as he slid his hand to run up and down Sherlock's side. "I love your body. You say it is just a vessel but you don't realize how wonderful you actually look." He smiled warmly and turned his fingers to scratch at his husband's skin. "You are beautifully slim and," he took a deep breath. "I love you."

With John talking to him, it was easier to focus on what was going on at the present than his own thoughts. Sherlock tried to press even closer and tighter to his husband, seeking comfort. "I love you too." The hand draped over John's stomach began to trace indefinable lines on the skin. "Will you keep talking to me?" Another silly request, but his husband was helping to banish thoughts that sought to consume him.

John's eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the feeling of Sherlock's hand on his stomach. "Your hair," he started softly with a bit of a laugh. "It is so _you_ in an odd way. Unruly. And when you just wake up it goes in every direction but you don't know it." He smiled softly and opened his eyes, a hand moving to curl the long locks of his husband's hair around his fingers. "Sometimes when you sleep and I am awake I always make sure the hair is out of your eyes."

"I like my hair," Sherlock mumbled like a pouting child. He didn't care how crazy or weird it looked to everyone else. "That's good, more." He was getting sleepy again, which annoyed him because he had slept an awful lot the last few days. He was sick of sleeping. Stupid life necessities. If he could, he would never sleep. His eyes closed but he remained awake, fighting it. He wanted to hear what else John had to say.

"So demanding," John joked softly before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock's nose. "Your nose," he whispered as he lifted a finger to run down the bridge of it. "When you are telling somebody off it crinkles at the top." There was a small pause and after a moment John spoke again, his mouth against Sherlock's ear. "And when you come it does that, too." He pulled back slowly. "It fits your face beautifully." Should he keep going? He could tell his husband was getting tired, his body getting a bit more limp in his arms. "Should I move on to your ears?"

"…'sgood…" Sherlock murmured into John's chest. It was becoming more difficult to stay awake. "Want 'smore…" He continued to mumble into his husband's torso, as he tried not to lose the fight to remain awake. The hand tracing along John's stomach went still, his body relaxing completely as sleep finally found him.

Had John really just gotten Sherlock to fall asleep? He smiled warmly and kept a hand running softly against his husband's lower back. Sherlock had been trying to fight the sleep but the man needed some rest. And he didn't mind because he so rarely got to watch his husband sleep and would take anything he could manage. He kept his gaze locked on Sherlock face as he slept.

Sherlock was able to sleep peacefully, in the arms of his husband. He continued to snuggle and murmur into John while he slept. He woke up a few hours later. "Sorry," he mumbled sleepily. He hadn't wanted to fall asleep. Really, he never wanted to sleep period but he supposed he was still recovering from the last several days. He was feeling better at least.

Sherlock's voice made John smile slightly and he just shook his head. "Don't apologize," he replied in a low voice. "You needed to sleep so I let you. Not a problem." He placed a soft kiss into his husband's hair. It had been endearing to have Sherlock sleep snuggled against him, with all the talking and warmth pressed against him. "How are you feeling?" That was the only thing he cared about because watching Sherlock like this was horrible.

Sherlock nodded. "I am feeling better." And he was. He lifted his head and smiled up at John. "I like waking up and seeing your face." He smiled again, dropping his head back into his husband's chest. He was taking what John had said and trying to learn and train himself to do the same. Was he getting better at these kinds of things? Or did he sound like some kind of rambling fool?

John grinned like an idiot, moving to give his husband a quick kiss. It was adorable, really, to have Sherlock tell him that. The man was learning slowly and was making him feel like a teenager all over again. "It is a rather lovely face, isn't it?" He replied with a small chuckle. He figured he should give the cocky thing a try if his husband was going to talk to him like that. Only fair.

"Yes, a very _adorable_ face." Sherlock smirked up to John. He wrapped his arms around his husband and squeezed his partner in a hug. "I love you." He leaned up and kissed John's lips. This was nice. Maybe they should do this more often. He should tell his husband. They were supposed to be talking anyway. "Want to do this again, sometime."

"Oi," John muttered as he returned his husband's kiss. In no way would he ever think he was adorable. Never. He looked down at Sherlock after taking a deep breath and smiled. "Maybe one day back in London you will have a break between cases and I'll manage to get Mrs. Hudson to watch Amy and we can," he whispered hopefully. He knew that once they were back in London things were going to be so different so if they made plans now maybe, just maybe, it would happen. "I love you, too."

"That would be good. I would like that." Sherlock snuggled back into John's chest. He began showering his husband's skin with kisses. Even with everything, this honeymoon was turning out to be rather good. "I know this hasn't been perfect, but I am glad we came here. It has been good for us, I think." After speaking he resumed giving John's chest gentle kisses.

John let his eyes close at the attention, smiling softly as his husband spoke. "Very good for us," he whispered in reply. Considering how they were before the honeymoon and how much they had changed since the start, he couldn't agree more. "That's good. More," he stated with a small smirk, clearly a bit proud of himself for using his husband's words in a new situation.

Sherlock rolled so he could straddle John, and continued to kiss his husband on the chest. He pressed into the man below him a bit. Nothing too much. They still had tomorrow to look forward to and he didn't want to ruin it. Self control. He had that, didn't he? He was learning it, he thought. He began licking one of his husband's scar.

Oh. Good. Very good. John moved a hand to run through Sherlock's hair with a soft gasp. When had his scars become so sensitive? Or was it just his husband's mouth? His hips lifted slightly in response to Sherlock's movements, licking his lips as he let a moan slip past his lips. Calm. God, he couldn't push Sherlock.

It was difficult to show restraint with John bucking up into him. Sherlock whimpered into his husband's skin. If he shagged the man below him, would it ruin tomorrow? Shit. He wanted John badly right now. The erection forming was proof of that. "Oh God, want you," he admitted, his body pressing into his husband eagerly. Screw the self control. They hadn't shagged in awhile. Didn't they deserve it?

John looked up at Sherlock. There was no reason to say no. They had everything they would need right here. "Please," he said with a nod, taking a deep breath. His husband already had an erection, there was no turning him down now. "Like this? Want to move at all?" He rushed out, stumbling slightly over his words and arching up into Sherlock.

Sherlock whimpered when his husband moved up into but then he hesitated momentarily. "It…it won't ruin tomorrow night?" He was a bit conflicted. He did want to shag John right now but God the plans for tomorrow. They were supposed to be special right? But he continued the kissing and licking, and resumed squirming into the man below him.

Tomorrow night. Shit. If Sherlock was thinking it would they should stop, right? John took a deep breath. "Do you think it will?" He asked with a calm that even he was surprised with given the fact that Sherlock was writhing into and doing wonderful things with his mouth. Would this be needy and desperate? He could stay calm and still talk this time and try not to ruin it but he really didn't want to upset his husband. Or exhaust him too much. Damn it.

Sherlock stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "I don't think it will, if we don't let it. Tomorrow will still be amazing. I want to shag you now because I love you. Love being inside you." He lifted his head to gaze up at John and then leaned down to kiss his husband's lips. His tongue went to into the mouth of his partner's eagerly.

Well, that seemed pretty settled. John shifted underneath Sherlock to work his legs out from under his husband, spreading them out on either side of his partner. He moaned into the kiss, letting Sherlock control it. Should they shift? If Sherlock wanted to shag him then it would take a lot of energy. Would his husband be up to it? He took a deep breath to calm himself down, letting his thoughts just stop. Let Sherlock do what he wanted everything would be fine. "Want you inside of me," he whispered against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock smirked, pleased. He squirmed into the man below him even more. He continued the kiss for a little while. He leaned over the side of the bed, thankful for his long limbs, to pick out a bottle of lubricant. He wiggled out of the boxers he was still wearing, as he began prepping his husband. This one didn't have a smell; apparently it was just a regular one. Admittedly he was a little disappointed, he had come to like the different flavors.

John bucked against Sherlock's fingers with a small shout. Oh, he had definitely missed that. "God, yes." He slammed his head back into the pillow beneath it, the muscles in his torso tense as he arched off the bed to give his husband better access. How in the world had they thought they could wait until tomorrow night? He lifted a left up to rest in Sherlock's shoulder and moaned. "Please. Now, please," he begged.

Sherlock smirked a bit. Good. John was just as eager as he was. He prepped himself and when he was ready he entered his husband with a loud moan. God, that felt wonderful. Why hadn't they shagged sooner? He began a moderate, steady pace. He leaned down to nibble on John's ear. "You feel wonderful," he whispered into the ear he was chewing lightly on.

John shouted, the leg on Sherlock's shoulder bending and putting pressure on the back of his husband's neck. "Fuck." He bit his bottom lip and slammed his eyes shut. "I-I know," he stuttered out, managing to smirk. "God, Sherlock." He clutched desperately at his husband's sides and moaned loudly.

The smirk on his lips got bigger and John's reaction encouraged Sherlock to pick up the pace. He began a faster rhythm, moaning into his husband's ear with each thrust. One hand gripped the head board for support and the other began scratching John's chest, leaving faint red streaks in their wake. He wasn't sure he was going to last long, given the quicker tempo and the lack of shagging in the last several days.

Scratching and _Jesus_ Sherlock was moaning into his ear. John took a deep breath, coughing slightly as he moaned. "Harder," he whispered into his husband's ear. He knew Sherlock was tired, sick, but he couldn't help it. He needed it rough right now and the scratching on his chest was only reminding him of that. "You are wonderful. God, you're fantastic. _Harder_ ," he begged.

Harder? The last time hadn't turned out too well, but John had asked twice now. Sherlock couldn't disappoint his husband. He increased the speed and power behind each thrust. He was still moaning, rather loudly now, into John's ear. He scratched harder, the red streaks turning a deeper red as his fingernails dug into the skin harshly. He growled his excitement and tilted his head down to bite his husband's shoulder, his teeth leaving markings. Everything was too much, his body tensing and then going limp as he came. He yelled John's name, but it came out muffled since his mouth was buried in his partner's shoulder. He rolled slightly to one side, his breathing ragged. Christ, he was exhausted.

John turned his head to Sherlock with a lazy smile, panting and grinning. A small trickle of blood ran from the inside of his lip down the side of his mouth and he laughed. He had bitten his lip so hard he was bleeding. God, that had been wonderful. And he looked like Hell. Scratch marks, bite marks. His husband was determined to let everybody know who he was married to. "Good. That was so good." He looked around and nodded proudly. "Good bed, too," he managed between pants of breath. His own erection could wait because he had just pushed Sherlock, a very exhausted Sherlock, to shag him. "C'mere. You all right?" He whispered as he pulled his husband into his chest and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Sherlock looked up at John, a frown etching his lips as soon as he saw the blood. He was going to reach up to wipe it away gently but he was lacking energy and motor skill control at the moment. He really didn't want to sleep again, but he had worn himself out completely after such an intense and amazing shagging. He couldn't fight it, even if he wanted to. "…'mfine…" he mumbled into his husband's chest before his body relaxed and sleep found him immediately.

So stereotypical, John thought. Falling asleep after a shag. He smiled and ran a hand through his husband's hair. Maybe it _had_ been better for his husband to exhaust himself so he would get some more sleep. He shifted on the bed a bit, wincing when he felt a bite sore from the movement. Worth it, he determined. So worth it. He yawned, rubbed the blood off on his pillow, and fell asleep holding on to Sherlock like his life depended on it.


	55. Chapter 55

It wasn't often Sherlock had dreams and it was even rarer for him to have nightmares. His dreams weren't nightmares per se, but they weren't really pleasant either. They weren't horrific enough to wake him but they were troubling enough to make him toss and turn, muttering incoherent things. Eventually, he just woke up on his own but he hadn't felt like he had slept at all. He groaned, futilely attempting to fall back asleep. God, his head was pounding.

John shifted and groaned slightly, opening his eyes to glance at his husband. He had been sleeping a bit rougher than normal. "You all right?" He muttered, his voice rough from sleep. God, what time was it? It was dark outside and a bit difficult to see his husband's face. "Shh, hey." He looked at his husband for a long moment. "Something's wrong," he stated softly

Sherlock wasn't sure why his sleep had been so restless considering how tired he had been when he fell asleep. Well, okay. He figured it was probably attributed to what happened at sea. He couldn't clearly recollect it, although he was trying. He was so lost in his thoughts; he almost hadn't heard John talking to him. "Headache," he muttered like a child. He buried his head into his husband's chest for some comfort.

Right. And right now Sherlock turned down anything that would get rid of pain. "Sherlock," John whispered as he pulled his husband closer. "I have got medicine for that, all right? It isn't addictive, it isn't strong, it's just going to get rid of your headache. I am going to give it to you and I want you to take it so you can feel better, yeah?" He pulled away for a moment to study Sherlock, smiling warmly. "It's just going to help you."

Sherlock clung to John. "Don't go. Just stay with me, please." He hated how desperate he sounded but there were fragments of recollection trying to haunt him now. He needed the comfort he knew his husband could give him. He wasn't used to having dreams and wasn't really sure how to deal with the current one he had just had. Was it irrational to think John would make everything better? Like a child thinks a kiss on a scrape makes the pain go away?

It didn't take long for everything to click with John. Scared after sleeping. Needing contact. _Nightmare_. "Sherlock, you had a nightmare, didn't you?" He asked softly as he moved a hand to rub at his husband's lower back in an attempt to calm him down. "Do you want to talk about it? It helps me, you've seen." He tugged his lower lip between his teeth. Is this how helpless Sherlock felt when he had his nightmares? It felt horrible.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise to Sherlock that John had figured it out. "Don't really remember it. Just bits and pieces. The worst is the feeling it left me just before waking." God, this was stupid. It was just an idiotic dream. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of his husband.

"I know," John whispered softly, closing his eyes for a long moment. "After nightmares I just think about you. So...try that. Think about me. About us being safe at home, waking up and making breakfast." He placed a calming kiss on Sherlock's temple. He never wanted this to happen to Sherlock but given what had recently happened to them wasn't too surprised. "Was it about...the lighthouse?" He muttered weakly.

"No, I was still lost at sea. You didn't come to find me. You didn't care. You…left me…" Sherlock trailed off brokenly. That was all he could really remember, but the feelings attached to the dream had been intense. He had felt so…abandoned. Now he realized why he was still gripping John so tightly. It wasn't real. His husband would never leave him, not like that. He _knew_ that, but it didn't change the way the dream had left him feeling and now he couldn't shake it.

John felt his stomach twist violently. Jesus. He'd had dreams about Sherlock but the thought of his husband having a dream like that, having to deal with it...it made him want to be sick. "It is fine," he whispered because, really, what else could he do? He felt helpless and suddenly realized what it felt like to have to deal with nightmares, to deal with the irrational feelings and the fears. "I am never going to leave you. I care about you, I love you. I'm always going to save you," he whispered into Sherlock's hair.

"I know. I just…the scariest thing about what happened to us, besides me losing you. Is that you lost me, without knowing what you meant to me. I…" Sherlock trailed off again but cleared his throat to continue this time around. "It's why I've been trying so hard the last few days. Not that I didn't try before…" He trailed off again, but this time words failed to form to continue his thought process. Stupid dream. This conversation was its entire fault. He was certain John was going to get mad at him now.

Oh. John looked down at Sherlock with a frown, both of his hands moving to frame his husband's face. "Sherlock Holmes," he said sternly, looking his husband in the eyes. "I love you. I would die for you if I needed to. And you know what? I know you would to. God, Sherlock, I was so scared when you let go." And, damn it, there were tears in his eyes, "I thought I had lost you forever and I hated myself for it. Hated that I couldn't save you. You never have to try to remind me how much I mean to you because I know. We are married, we're husbands, I _know_."

The use of his full name… This wasn't going to end well, was it? Oh. Sherlock really didn't know what to say now. He felt stupid for admitting anything and now John seemed to be on the verge of tears, all because of him. He hadn't minded taking care of his husband. Would he have to stop that now? Because really he still wanted to do dumb little things to make John happy. "I love you," he whispered, feeling a little lame for it but he hadn't been able to think of anything else to say.

"I love you too," John whispered with a watery smile. "Granted, the next time you feel like burning toast to make me laugh, you can," he added with a shaky laugh as he gave his husband a quick, gentle kiss. "Don't you ever forget that I love you and I always will. I would never leave you anywhere. I am always going to be by your side." He pulled his husband into a tight hug, his eyes slipping closed. "God, I love you so much. I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you."

Right. This was a depressing way to start the day. And a new day had barely begun, based on the positioning of the moon outside. Tonight would be better. How to fix now though? "I know John. It was just a stupid dream and it caught me unprepared. I am okay now, Love." He lifted his head to gently kiss his husband on the lips.

Right. Sherlock wasn't like John, didn't need a constant reminder after a nightmare. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, returning the kiss. "Right. Of course. Yeah." He smiled a bit and shifted on the bed. "I am going to go get you that medicine, then. Help your headache." He said with a small nod. He wanted to help his husband get out of pain. "Didn't mean to exhaust you after such a wonderful shag," he added with a smug grin.

Had he said something wrong? Maybe not, John seemed okay now. Oh yeah, the headache. Sherlock had forgotten about that with all the talking. Something for the pain should be okay, especially if it was just some form of aspirin. He couldn't help but smirk at his husband. "It was wonderful because I am amazing and perfect." There. Fall into old and familiar habits. Couldn't go wrong with that, right?

"Because _I'm_ wonderful," John shot back as he stood up slowly, walking a bit awkwardly as he left the room. It didn't take him long to find some aspirin and get a cup of water, taking it back to the room. He moved to sit up on the bed, handing everything to Sherlock with a bit of a smile. "We have got a big night ahead of us," he said as he tilted his head to the side and ran a finger lightly down his husband's side. "I can't wait."

"And adorable!" Sherlock shouted after John with a smirk on his lips. He took the pills and washed them down with the water and then set the empty cup down on the night stand. "Yes. Tonight will be amazing." God, he couldn't wait for it to come. It had become even more desirable than wanting to shag his husband against the window at the flat. Which was saying something considering it was his biggest fantasy. Maybe he should talk to John about that sometime. Probably not now though. He didn't want to ruin the mood.

"I'm not adorable," John insisted softly, leaning forward to place a gently kiss on his husband's forehead. "Going to shag you so slow. Talk to you, let you know much I love you." A kiss on Sherlock's cheek, "Want you." The underside of Sherlock's jaw, " _Need_ you." He glanced outside through the doors that led to their small beach. "We've got, what, twelve hours? God, twelve hours until I am inside of you." He shifted and moved to lay next to his husband, pressing their foreheads together.

Sherlock's eyes flitted close in contentment from the kisses he was receiving from John. "Keep that up and I will want it _now._ " He opened his eyes and smirked at his husband. He was mostly joking because God, John was doing a really good job of seducing him right now. Grant it, it didn't take a lot to begin with but they had planned this almost a week ago and he wanted it to happen so badly, just thinking about it was enough to give him an erection. Well, it would have been if he had been able to get one right now.

"Mmm, do want it now," John whispered as his own eyes slipped closed. "But I am waiting, being patient." He gave Sherlock a slow kiss. "For you because you mean the world to me and I want to show you." He shifted and moved to straddle his husband, pressing his nose into the crook of Sherlock's neck. "Going to suck you off tonight," he whispered against his partner's skin. "Fuck, it is going to be glorious."

Sherlock whimpered as soon as John straddled them. Wait. They had waited this long, so waiting a bit longer would be nothing. Only it felt so far away now. It was right about now, that he would kiss his husband for a distraction but he was certain it would end up having the opposite desired result. It _was_ them after all. He reached up a hand to run along John's cheek lightly. "Still want the cheese and crackers for dinner my Love?"

John looked down at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile, nodding a bit. "And wine which means I am going to have to get some sort of food in you before hand," he whispered as he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on his husband's palm. "Eggs? I saw some sausage in the freezer, could cook that for you if you are hungry. Wouldn't want you passing out on me." He let his eyes slip closed and let his head fall, resting on Sherlock's chest. "Wish I could sleep all day and just wake up in time to shag you," he stated with a chuckle.

"If we eat a bit of the dinner before drinking the wine, it should be okay?" Sherlock knew if he ate anything now then he wouldn't be hungry tonight. "If you want to sleep, then do so my dear doctor." He didn't like sleep to begin with and after the feeling the dream had left upon waking, he wasn't keen on the idea of sleep at all. He was sure he could find something to occupy his mind if John really wanted to nap.

"Do you want me to get off of you so you can go do something else?" John asked softly against Sherlock's chest. It would be rude to keep his husband pinned here while he selfishly took a nap but, damn, he was exhausted and could feel sleep sneaking up on him. At this point he wasn't sure if he could keep fighting it. "Sorry, just really tired," he muttered with a yawn. "Sorry."

"You are fine Love. Sleep now. I will be here when you wake up." Sherlock smiled at John and then tilted his head down to give his husband a kiss on the top of the head. Soon. Nightfall would be upon them and their glorious night could commence. Right now was good too though. He wrapped his arms around John, hugging the man above him closer.

Sleep. John mumbled something and soon relaxed against his husband, snoring softly against Sherlock's chest. Everything was peaceful, no dreams, and his eyes opened slowly several hours later. God, he felt like he had slept forever. He moaned, shifted slightly, and went limp again. Did he ever have to move? He could just stay like this for the rest of his life. "Morning," he muttered weakly, moving slightly to place a kiss on the inside of Sherlock's bicep.

Good, John had slept without any nightmares. Sherlock smiled up at his husband. "Good morning my dear doctor. I trust you had a restful respite then?" It was closer to the evening now really and the feeling left him practically giddy with excitement. Not too much longer to wait. "John, while you were sleeping I decided I am going to start wearing boxers." It wasn't what he had been thinking about at the moment, but dwelling on the night to come would only make time seem to go slower.

John opened his mouth to answer his husband's question when he burst into laughter, looking at Sherlock with a grin. Here he thought his husband thought of great and wonderful things while he slept. Having those thoughts revealed was a bit anti-climatic but hilarious all the same. "Why is that? I quite like your briefs, they make your arse look wonderful."

"Fine. I won't then," Sherlock muttered, his bottom lip puckering out in a pout. He was being a child at the moment but John was laughing at him right now. Hadn't it been his husband's idea in the first place? He had actually liked the boxers and he had thought John did too. "What's so funny?" He finally asked. The prospect of wearing boxers over briefs didn't strike him as too particularly hilarious.

John grinned and studied his husband for a long moment. "It is just...I thought you had these deep thoughts and everything and it turns out you think about such simple things like your underwear." He smiled and gently shook his head. He might have just upset Sherlock and he should probably fix it. "You can wear boxers if you want. I quite liked you in mine." There. Fixed. He shifted and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek.

Oh. "Not all the time," Sherlock was still muttering with his pouting lip. His husband had been laughing at him for being idiot. Right. God forbid the only consulting detective in the world would have normal thoughts. Except, he hadn't…not really anyway. Not until he had met John. Before, the only thing that mattered were experiments and cases and everything else hadn't been of any consequence to him. The pouting lips turned into a small smile. "Thank you." He leaned up and kissed John's nose.

"Should I go buy you some?" John asked softly. "As endearing as you look in mine, I am a bit bigger than you." He smiled and gave Sherlock quick kiss. "Can't have your boxers bunching up under your fancy pants." After a long moment and glanced over at the clock. Seven. Two more hours and it would be dark. God, his heart rate picked up at just the thought. He looked back at his husband. "We should get up and put some clothes on, start preparing our little dinner." ...But John didn't move at all, just grinned down at his husband.

It occurred to Sherlock that John didn't realize what he was being thanked for. "When I was thanking you, I meant thank you for changing my life. I was laying here thinking how different I was when we first met and how much I've changed since then. And it is all because of you, Love." He smiled up at his husband, his hand reaching up so his thumb could run along John's jaw line lightly.

Oh. And John had laughed. A quick blush spread across his cheeks and he managed a bit of a smile. What did he say back to that? 'You're welcome' didn't seem quite right. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah," he said weakly before clearing his throat. "I love you. God, Sherlock, I love you so much," he whispered.

"I know you do. I love you too." Sherlock reached up and kissed John's forehead, and then left their heads pressed together. He was excited about tonight, but one just didn't just disrupt a moment like this, did they? The smile returned, his thumb moving to run across his husband's bottom lip gently.

That soft touch made John's eyes flutter shut. So wonderful. He opened his mouth slowly, blindly taking Sherlock's thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip. He couldn't help himself and, God, Sherlock couldn't just touch him like that and expect him to not do this. After several moments he exhaled shakily through his nose and opened his eyes, focusing intently on his husband as he continued the attention to Sherlock's thumb.

Sherlock couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips as a devious plan formed in his mind. He pulled his thumb away slowly. "That is just a preview of things to come later tonight my dear doctor. Come on then, you said something about making dinner." His fingers came to linger on John's chest, trailing along it slowly and purposefully missing the claw marks from last night. He decided that he could tease his husband just a bit before the night began.

John watched Sherlock's hand for a moment, breathing heavily. Shit, he was already getting an erection. It wasn't a surprise, really, he didn't get off the last time they shagged. How could he get up and make dinner with his husband below him doing such wonderfully delicious things? His gaze shot up to Sherlock and he took a deep breath, leaning down to passionately kiss his husband.

Oh God, if Sherlock didn't stop this then things were going to get out of hand and they'd have to wait even longer for the night on the beach. John was kissing him though, why would he want to stop that? He returned the kiss, cursing himself for his lack of self control right now. But his husband was above and clearly interested in the activities going on right now.

Calm. Stay calm. Sherlock had wanted this night so bad and he would not ruin it. John pulled away from the kiss slowly, smiling as he took a shaky breath. "Sorry," he whispered with a laugh. "We've got an hour and a half to wait at the longest." He nodded to assure himself of that. He couldn't ruin this for his husband. "Want to make tonight special for you."

Right. Stopping was for the best, if they wanted tonight to work out. Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Dinner then, my Love? Did you still want a fruit salad with the crackers and cheese?" He couldn't wait for tonight, his own devious plan had backfired on him in way because he really wanted John right now. Patience. Just wait.

"Sounds wonderful," John replied happily, slowly moving off of his husband and walking to the dresser. Did he put clothes on? He shifted slightly on his feet before grabbing a clean pair of boxers and slipping them on, turning to look at Sherlock. God, his husband was beautiful. He grinned and walked toward the door, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "Going to get everything ready. Find your favorite lube." He winked and headed toward the kitchen to start putting their dinner together.

Sherlock didn't want to get out of the bed, but he needed too. He was missing his robe. It was still on the beach, possibly ruined by now. He would probably have to get another one. He groaned and rolled off the bed. Favorite lube? That was still in the shower, wasn't it? Would there be any left? He found the bottle still lying on the floor in the shower, it was slightly under half empty. It should be enough. Should he get clothes? Meh. Why bother? Just going to take them off anyway. He walked out of the bedroom and over to the mound of pillows and blankets. He pulled out the biggest blanket he could find.

John was already peeling an orange but froze when Sherlock came out from the bedroom. "You are distracting me," he muttered with a laugh as he pulled the fruit apart and put it in a bowl. "I have got the crackers and cheese set out and I've just started the fruit salad," he grabbed an apple and started cutting it. "Any preference on the wine?"

Sherlock turned to smirk at John, the blanket under one arm and the bottle of lubricant in his free hand. He walked into the kitchen, setting the items on the table. "That depends, what kind of cheese did you get? Different wines go better with certain cheeses." He shrugged a little, grabbing a piece of fruit that was already cut and popped it into his mouth as he hoisted himself up on the counter to sit.

"Oi, Sherlock, we make food on these counters." John looked up at his husband playfully. "You have got your bare arse off the counter," he muttered as he motioned toward the cheese cut into small pieces. "Yellow cheese? I don't know. God, get your dick off the counter." He swatted at his husband's knee with a laugh before starting to cut up a small slice of honeydew.

Sherlock smirked at John again, but hopped off the counter. He walked over to the plate of cheese and ate a piece. "Cheddar, aged by the taste. So, a bottle of Merlot or Cabernet. We probably have both, do you have a preference my dear doctor?" He walked over to the pantry to check out the wine selection. It wasn't nearly as extensive as the selection in the wine cellar back at the manor but it will held a pretty wide variety. In fact, this particular pantry held nothing _but_ bottles of alcohol.

John glanced over his shoulder at his husband before rolling his eyes. "A good one?" He muttered as he dumped the sliced honeydew in the bowl. It was clear that he wasn't raised in a family that knew what cheese went with what wine. At seventeen all he knew was that beer was delicious and went very well with crisps. "Just pick one." He turned and rested his back against the counter and studied his husband's body appreciatively.

Sherlock frowned a bit, had he upset John? He was going to ruin this night with his husband before it even really started, wasn't he? Merlot was a bit cliché in his opinion so he picked out a bottle of Cabernet instead. He began rummaging through other cupboards randomly and found a basket. Didn't people do that? "John, fancy a picnic?" He smirked a bit as he held up the basket for his husband to see. Actually, come to think of it. He had never been on a picnic before.

"Fancy you," John said with a bit of a smile, grabbing the bowl of fruit and slowly putting a piece of honeydew in his mouth. Sherlock was prancing around naked. There wasn't much more he could take. "Here." He grabbed a lid for the bowl and placed it in the basket, giving Sherlock a quick kiss before grabbing the plate of cheese and crackers. "I will carry this," he said softly before shoving the blanket under his other arm.

Sherlock smirked again, pleased. Good. Better. He put the wine in the basket and a cork screw. He picked up the bottle of lubricant and decided to carry it, just in case. He didn't want the thing to accidentally open and ruin everything inside by making it taste like blueberries. Although…he did rather like the lube. No. Nope. Just carry the damn thing. He moved out the door and down to the beach.

John followed after his husband, setting the plate down for a moment so he could spread out the blanket. He moved, placed the plate on the blanket, and finally laid down. It was...wonderful. Comfortable. Warm. And the stars were just starting to come out. He folded his arms behind his head and stretched, his eyes slipping closed. So they had to eat and then...then he would lean over and slowly kiss Sherlock, roll and settle between his legs. John smiled to himself and opened his eyes to look up at his husband.


	56. Chapter 56

Sherlock smirked and straddled John's prone position. He set the basket down next to them, opening it and then the lid to the fruit. He pulled out a piece of an orange put it in his mouth and then leaned down to offer the other side to his husband. They had done it with the pasta; why not try it now with the fruit?

They were so close and what Sherlock was doing, quite possibly, the most adorable thing he had ever seen. How could John turned that down? He sat up slightly, propping himself with his elbows, and took the other half of the orange slice into his mouth. Their lips met briefly and he smiled the best he could, biting off his half and slowly kissing his husband. Sherlock's romantic side was making him smile like an idiot.

He was getting better at this, yes? It would seem so, because John was smiling. Sherlock leaned down to meet his husband's lips again. "I love you," he murmured behind the kiss. He continued it, exhaling through his nose when it became necessary to do so. He moved a hand to run through John's hair and the other began running along his husband's chest lightly.

John returned the kiss eagerly and arched into his husband's touch. Weren't they supposed to be eating? At this rate he wasn't going to make it. If Sherlock kept this up he was going to roll them and take his husband nice and slow. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, panting with a lopsided grin. "Again," he stated softly, reaching blindly into the basket and grabbing a slice if fruit. Apple. He put half in his mouth and looked up at his husband with a small smirk.

Oh right. They were supposed to be feeding each other. Sherlock returned the smirk and bent down to take the other half of the apple, their lips meeting as it snapped in half. This was even more wonderful than he had imagined and they hadn't even started shagging yet. Tonight was going to perfect.

John chewed his half happily, studying his husband with a small smile. "You are wonderful," he whispered as he met his husband's lips in a quick kiss. When had eating become so romantic? And even Sherlock was eating. Perhaps they would have to do this more often. "Here," he spoke softly and grabbed a slice of honeydew and held it against his husband's lips.

Now wasn't the time to be cocky, was it? Sherlock smiled down at John. He took the melon into his mouth, making sure to suck on the tips of his husband's fingers on the process. After chewing and swallowing the piece, he resumed sucking on John's finger tips again. He decided to start nibbling. Yes, perfect. Perhaps they should have some wine and cheese soon, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. He was starting to get hard already.

Well, this was certainly having an effect on them both. John sucked in a deep breath as he watched Sherlock's mouth on his fingers, his own erection pressing against the inside of his husband's thigh. Should they forget the rest of the meal? Eat it when they were done? "Love you," he whispered as he turned his head, nudging his husband's ear with his nose.

Sherlock moaned as he felt John's erection pressing against him. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that they would probably end up shagging before wining and dining. He had wanted to but he couldn't bring himself to roll off his husband. "I love you too." In his confliction of desires, his head had nestled into John's chest.

After a few calming breaths John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock, kissing the top of his head. "Sometimes I want to stand on the roof of the tallest building in the world and shout to everybody that I am madly in love with you," he whispered with a bit of a smile. "Tell them how bloody amazing you are and that you are all mine." There was a pause before he let his eyes close and his body relax.

Sherlock smiled into John's chest, relaxing against his husband. This right here was nice too. Just laying with the man he loved. Tonight was turning out better than he thought it would. "Want to just lay with you awhile, I think. Do you mind waiting a bit my Love?" He shifted so he could look up at John.

"Of course not," John replied softly, moving his head to gently meet his husband's lips. "I will do anything for you." He studied his husband intently, eyes a bit wide in the dark. How in the world had he gotten so lucky? What had he done to deserve this wonderful man in his life? He shifted and moved an arm to reach into the basket, grabbing a piece of fruit and eating it with a bit of a smile.

For awhile, Sherlock laid there with his ear pressed against John's chest. His husband had listened to his heart beat on several occasions but he had never done the same. He wanted to see what it was like. He reached down, taking John's hand in his and intertwined their fingers. "This is nice. I am glad we did this. I love you."

"I love you, too," John whispered. He squeezed his husband's hand and smiled softly. "My anchor," he added as he looked down at Sherlock. His smile was lazy but his eyes were bright and, damn it, just _looking_ at Sherlock made his heart race. The man resting against his chest was his _husband_. He grinned and placed a soft kiss into Sherlock's hair.

They were supposed to be having dinner, but just laying here with John was nice. "I'm thinking we should take a holiday like this a few times a year. Not a whole month, but a week or two. And when little Sandi is older, she can come with us. What do you think?" Sherlock finally tilted his head to look up at his husband.

A family vacation. In a few years it wouldn't be about constantly shagging but he was all right with that. John nodded and grinned at his husband. "Yeah. I would like that. New place every year, let Amy see the world," he whispered. His husband was becoming such a family man. "We would shag in a new spot every year, too," he added with a soft laugh as he squeezed his husband's hand again. After a few moments he lifted their joined hands to his mouth, kissing Sherlock's knuckles.

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "That sounds wonderful. We are definitely doing that then." He finally shifted off John, coming to a sitting position next to his husband. He stacked cheese on a cracker and offered it to John with a bit of a grin. He pulled out the bottle of wine with his free hand. He had forgotten glasses, figured. They could drink from the bottle he supposed.

John leaned forward and slowly ate the food being offered, licking at his husband's fingers. God, he already missed the warmth of Sherlock. Wine. He reached forward and grabbed the bottle, sitting up and opening before taking a large gulp. Naturally Sherlock was right and it was delicious with the food he had just ingested. "Git," he muttered with a small smirk.

If John kept taking large drinks of the wine like that, his husband was going to end up drunk. He frowned at the thought and it only deepened at John's single word. Had he done or said something wrong? His brows furrowed together in contemplation, but he couldn't think of anything. He finally noticed the smirk and realized that his husband had been teasing. He smirked back faintly, offering John another cracker topped with cheese.

John handed the bottle off and leaned forward, accepting the food from his husband's hand slowly. He kept his gaze locked intently on Sherlock as his tongue darted out to clean his husband's fingers. "It does taste delicious," he clarified softly, sitting up a bit more to meet Sherlock's lips. His turn. Sherlock couldn't do all of the feeding. He reached around his husband and got a cracker and a piece of cheese, offering it to his partner with a soft smile. When had food become such a turn on for them?

Sherlock smirked bigger. "Of course it does. I am amazing and perfect, so obviously I would pick a good wine to go with dinner." He leaned forward a bit and took his time eating the cracker out of John's hand, his tongue purposely lapping at his husband's fingers. He continued sucking on them a little while longer, once the food was gone. He then took the bottle of wine and took a quick sip. Christ, John was right. That _was_ delicious. He took another drink.

It probably wasn't appropriate to sit and stare at Sherlock's mouth but John couldn't care less. Hell, Sherlock was naked and he was in nothing but boxers, anything was appropriate, really. "Not too much," he whispered as he leaned forward and gave his husband a soft kiss. "Want you to know what is going on when I shag you nice and slow." He grinned and nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock put the bottle down and leaned into the kiss. Since he couldn't pull John on top of him, he moved to straddle his husband once more. He pressed his erection into John's thigh with a small whimper of desire. The moment they had both been waiting for and it was almost upon them. Since he was on the receiving end, he figured his husband should have some semblance of control here. Don't beg for it. It would happen when John was ready.

Oh, God, that was wonderful. John gasped into his husband's mouth, reaching between them to slowly push his boxers down. It took a bit of wiggling but he finally kicked them off, looking up at his husband with a warm smile. "Sherlock Holmes," he whispered, lifting a hand up to rest on his husband's cheek. "The best husband in the world," he added before meeting Sherlock's lips in slow kiss. Did Sherlock want them to start? He had pressed his erection into John's thigh and he had definitely whimpered. Jesus. He lifted his hips slightly and pressed his erection against his husband's with a soft moan.

Sherlock whimpered again. This was a fantastic start already. Everything he thought it would be. Well, better really and they weren't even shagging yet. He looked down at John and returned the smile and kiss, matching the pace set by the man below him. He pressed back into his husband with a moan, trying not to turn into a writhing mess. Slow and easy, he had to remind himself. So far it was going splendidly.

"Yes," John said softly, his head falling back as he took several deep breaths. Calm. It wouldn't do any good to get off before actually shagging his husband. He took several deep breaths as he lifted his hips again, a hand moving to gently grab his husband's ass he force him forward slightly. "Good," he muttered shakily. "God, so good." He managed a smile as he met Sherlock's gaze. "I love you."

Sherlock moved, moaning quietly. "I love you too." Ready. He was so ready right now. He pressed his erection into John again, this time against his husband's stomach since his position had altered slightly. He leaned down to kiss John again, hands finally moving to his husband's chest. His finger tips trailed along his partner's skin ever so lightly.

If John was reading Sherlock wrong than sod it because he was ready and he wanted his husband. He returned Sherlock's kiss, rolling them slowly so he pushed his husband against the blanket and settled easily between his legs. Perfect. Literally like he had imagined it. Except now he wanted to take it slow. He didn't reach for the lube and instead pulled away from the kiss, lowering his mouth to place soft kisses on Sherlock's neck."You are amazing."

Perfect. Yes. Things were going marvelous still. And God, John was on top of him. Sherlock tilted his head up so his husband would have better access to his neck. "You are too. _This_ is amazing." He wrapped his arms around John, his fingers coming to trail along his husband's back now. With self control he managed not to buck wildly into the man above him.

Talking. When had Sherlock's voice become something that calmed him down and riled him up all at the same time? John arched slightly into his husband's hands, lowering his mouth to nip and kiss at his partner's collarbone. Attention. Everything he did was all about Sherlock and making sure the man knew he was loved, and cared for, and that John could never get enough of him. His hips pressed down and rolled slowly as he moaned.

Sherlock whimpered, pressing back up into John almost instantly. He moved one hand up to his husband's head, where he tugged gently at the locks of hair that were long enough to be pulled. Nothing rough. He just wanted to be able to give John some form of attention as well. His eyes closed in contentment, as he took in every sensation that his body was feeling right now.

So eager. God, how long was he going to be able to hold out? John moaned against the scar at the center of Sherlock's chest, one hand reaching out blindly to find the lube. It didn't take him long before he was able to find it, pulling it back toward them. Hair. Sherlock was pulling his hair and he gasped, his hips pressing slowly into Sherlock. "Lube?" He asked softly, before his mouth attached to his husband's right nipple and started gently sucking.

"Y-yes. Pl-please," Sherlock stuttered in his excitement. "Yes. Oh God yes," He begged again, not caring if he did now. He moaned, as he pressed back up into John. He continued the light pulling of his husband's hair. It was getting harder to maintain control and to give himself a little leeway, he scratched gently at his partner's bare back.

John fumbled with the bottle before opening it, smearing some on to his fingers and sliding two into Sherlock slowly. God, he couldn't wait. He had waited so long, almost a week, and he wanted to show Sherlock how much he was loved, how much he was cared for. It was clear that his husband was struggling to stay in control but he managed, taking a deep breath and switching to the opposite nipple before pulling away to take a deep breath. Scratches and hair pulling. "Shit, so good," he muttered as his fingers worked slowly in and out of Sherlock.

Sherlock moaned, the hand on John's back dropping to the blanket below where he tangled his fingers in it tightly. "Can't wait for you to be inside." Everything was feeling rather wonderful. He opened his eyes and tilted his head so he could look down at his husband. He had wanted to watch John while they made love under the stars. His husband looked amazing silhouetted against the moonlight. "You look incredible right now."

John slowly lifted his head, his eyes flashing in the light from the moon. "You do, too," he whispered with a lop-sided smile, his fingers sliding out as he sat up for a moment. He had intended on preparing himself but...shit, Sherlock _did_ look wonderful right now. Legs spread and ready for him, a bit flushed from their activities and the moonlight casting his face into the most amazing thing he had ever seen. "You look fantastic," he whispered as he moved a hand to gently rub at his husband's knee, the only point of contact between them now.

Oh now John was just teasing him. Or at least that's what it felt like to him. Sherlock whimpered, his leg twitching from his husband's touch. How much longer was he going to have to wait? He was trying really hard not squirm and writhe all over the place and so far he was actually doing a pretty good job of staying still. He wasn't sure how much longer he could he wait before he sprung up and tackled his husband to the ground.

Right, Sherlock was practically ready to jump on his cock. John smiled a bit and prepared himself, leaning down to meet his husband's lips. "I love you, Sherlock," he whispered as he slowly entered his partner, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to control his hips. Slow. Stay slow and calm. _Talk_. "I love you. God, you are wonderful, Sherlock." His hips moved in slow, shallow thrusts as he breathed heavily into his husband's neck.

Sherlock moaned, rocking in time with the slow rhythm set by John. Now he knew why his husband loved it so much when he talked. It was glorious to hear, especially with his partner inside of him. "I love you too." He smiled at John. It was tempting to just lay back, close his eyes and enjoy every second of it but he had wanted to be able to see his husband, so he locked his gaze on the man above him.

John met Sherlock's gaze for a moment before his eyes closed and he moaned softly. It wasn't difficult for him to go slow, it was a pace he had been used to for his entire life until he had met Sherlock. "Love the way you feel. So wonderful, responsive." He swallowed hard and let his body tense for a moment, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Perfect. You're perfect and, oh..." He gasped and opened his eyes, gazing at Sherlock intently. "R-Rest of my life...you," he muttered brokenly.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk faintly. John was trying. The man above him made noise when they shagged, but his husband had never talked to him before. It was adorable and endearing to witness. Who would have thought that he would have an easier time to whisper sweet nothings while shagging than John did apparently? It came as a slight surprise really. He stroked his husband's head lightly. It was hard for him to not to want to take control and force a faster pace, but if he focused on John he seemed to do okay. It was all feeling rather wonderful and he didn't want to disrupt it anyway.

How the Hell did Sherlock manage to talk when they shagged? John's thought process was jumbled and he couldn't think about anything except _Sherlock_ and, damn it, the man really was a genius. He gasped and his hips hitched before he started to move a bit faster, his eyes slammed shut. "Moonlight," he groaned and his hand fisted roughly into the blanket beside Sherlock's head. "G-Good look on you," he finally got out, his body tensing for a moment as he tried to keep his hips under control. Sherlock had wanted slow, wanted to make love, and he wasn't going to ruin it.

John was struggling. Maybe he had asked too much of his husband. Sherlock smiled encouragingly at the man above him. Maybe some words of reassurance would help? "You are doing fine Love." The hand running through John's hair, dropped a bit to run along his husband's cheek. Oh God. A faster pace. He moaned, bucking up into the quicker thrusts reflexively.

Jesus. Sherlock just talked like it was nothing. John took several deep breaths, swallowing hard. Apparently he was doing all right. Focus. Just...focus. "You are the best shag ever," he whispered, managing to get the words out with stumbling over them. He grinned a bit before it vanished and his focus turned to his hips, to Sherlock bucking beneath him. Should he slow back down? "G-Good? Making love," he whispered. "Making love to you." He let his head drop on to Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock smiled again, but it took him a moment to answer. The faster pace made it more difficult to concentrate because all he wanted to do was make it go faster still. He forced his hips to still, so John would have an easier time with keeping a slower rhythm. "Yes, it is wonderful. You are wonderful. You feel wonderful."

John glanced at Sherlock for a moment when his husband's hips went still, smiling shakily before he shouted. He came roughly, holding himself up on shaky arms. "God," he muttered before finally lower himself to rest on his husband's chest. "God," he repeated. That had been...amazing. "S-Sorry," he finally whispered because he should have lasted longer but he was exhausted and... "I still get to give you a blow job," he whispered as he pulled out of Sherlock, reaching for the lube as he grinned eagerly.

Sherlock was about to tell John that lubricant wouldn't be needed for a blow job, but he stopped himself and smirked at his husband. He studied his partner in the moon light. John looked worn out. "If you are tired my dear doctor, you don't have to." His hand moved back to run through his husband's hair soothingly.

Sod being tired. John wanted Sherlock to fuck his mouth and he was so ready for it. "Please. God, please," he whispered as he opened the lube and spread it eagerly over his husband's cock. That had worn him out but if this blow job went like he wanted then he would be fine. "C'mon," he whispered, lowering his mouth on his husband's penis slowly before coming back up. He stopped with his mouth at the tip and glanced at Sherlock with the best grin he could manage.

Why was the smell of the blueberries so damn amazing to smell? Actually, Sherlock really knew the answer. The sense of smell could trigger responses when it was associated with something good or bad. And in this case it was associated with a memory he never wanted to lose. He whimpered as he felt John's mouth on his penis. What his husband waiting for? Oh. He bucked up into the waiting mouth with a moan.

John hollowed his cheeks out and gagged slightly, lifting his head slightly into his husband's hand. God, so good. He bobbed his head several times because it wouldn't be fair to make Sherlock do all the work. He hummed around his husband's cock and lifted a hand to scratch at Sherlock's thigh. He was already breathing hard through his nose, the smell of blueberry overtaking his senses.

Sherlock moaned again, arching up into John's mouth again. Shit, and now his husband was scratching him. So wonderful. His fingers dug into the blanket below him, twisting the sheets around his knuckles in his ecstasy. "John," He managed to breath out as he bucked up into his husband once more with another moan.

Why wasn't Sherlock touching his head, pulling his hair? John grabbed one of his husband's hands and placing it on his head. God, it was so damn hot to have Sherlock do this. And he enjoyed it, clearly. He was saying John's name and he wanted to hear it again. He took a deep breath and lowered his mouth, taking Sherlock's penis into his mouth until he gagged, pulling back with a shaky exhale through his nose and pulling back so Sherlock could continue his thrusts.

Sherlock smirked a bit, apparently John like his hair pulled just as much as he did. He grasped a few of the longer strands, tugging at them. He moaned out John's name when his whole cock had been enveloped. He thrust back up into his husband with another moan. Another thrust and he came with a loud moan. "Oh God…'sgood…"

John managed to swallow with ease, wincing a bit at the overwhelming blueberry flavor. Sherlock had clearly enjoyed himself and he pulled away with a smile, resting his head against his husband's thigh with a small cough. "God. God." He took a deep breath and laughed. "Good night then? Didn't disappoint?"

"No you didn't. It was wonderful, thank you." Sherlock smiled down at John. Tonight had been perfect. Hopefully the rest of the honeymoon would go just as well. He reached over and grabbed a random piece of fruit and popped it in his mouth. The hand in his husband's hair began scratching lightly, rather than tugging on the longer strands.

At this rate John could fall asleep right here and be content with everything. That had been exhausting, every bit of it. But so worth it. "Wonderful," he whispered with a small cough and a grin. A small shiver running through his body from the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair.

Sherlock put everything in the basket and then moved it off the blanket. He shifted and then moved down to lay next to John, pulling the blanket over them. He rested his head on his husband's chest. "We can sleep out here tonight if you want my Love." He leaned his head up and gave John a kiss on the lips.

Sleep. John smiled against his husband's lips and let his eyes shut slowly. "Yeah. Good," he whispered before he forced his eyes open slowly. "I love you. I love you so much. Thank you for everything. _Everything_. You are wonderful." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again before falling asleep.

Sherlock smiled. "I love you too." He snuggled into John, an arm draped over his chest. He stayed awake for a little while, stroking his husband's hair. Eventually he fell asleep. He slept peacefully at John's side.

The rest of the honeymoon went well. They didn't fight the rest of the time. They worked on talking things out. It was nice change. The time flew by and before they knew it, it was time to head back home.


End file.
